


A New Form

by Kenophobia



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Monster Dean Winchester, Season 2, Shapeshifter Dean Winchester, Stanford Student Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-02
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:41:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 30,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22980403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kenophobia/pseuds/Kenophobia
Summary: The last year has really sucked for Sam. His girlfriend was killed, he was pulled back into hunting, and now his father is dead too. The one thing he thought he could rely on is Dean, but it turns out Dean may not even exist.
Comments: 36
Kudos: 130





	1. Chapter 1

Sam sits by his father’s bedside staring at the jagged green line on the monitor that indicates his Dad’s heartbeat. Nearby, Dean paces angrily around the room as they wait for the doctor to arrive. 

When he does, he knocks politely but doesn’t wait for permission before stepping into the room with a nurse trailing behind him. “Sam, Dean are you ready?” he asks not unkindly. Sam nods.

After they discovered that the demon was possessing their father, Dad had managed to break free of its control just long enough to order Dean to shoot him. To Sam’s shock, Dean hadn’t even hesitated. Now, the demon was dead, killed instantly by the colt. Since the gun technically wasn’t fired with the intention to kill him, John Winchester seemed to have escaped the gun’s magic. He hadn’t however escaped the bullet itself and now their father was lying in a hospital bed with a serious brain injury. 

The doctors did the best they could but soon the hospital staff was sitting down with the brothers and telling them that their father would probably never recover, and they should consider withdrawing life support. They had stayed up all night going back and forth about it. Sam yelled at Dean for killing their father and Dean calmly insisted that the man had spent his entire life hunting that demon and that this is what he had wanted. Dean had surprised Sam by insisting that Dad wouldn’t have wanted to live as a vegetable and eventually Sam had found himself agreeing. Now the time has come and here they are. 

Sam tries to pay attention as the doctor explains the process to him again and waits for his consent. Then he lets himself tune out as the medical staff go about their business of removing tubes and silencing monitors. “We’ll give you some time alone now but let us know if you need anything” the doctor says before disappearing. 

John takes hours to die. Sam finds himself wishing that he would hurry up so the whole thing could just be over and then immediately feels guilty for thinking it. It’s almost anticlimactic when it finally happens; that jagged green line stops being jagged and flattens out. John Winchester is dead and as soon as he is Sam hears the last thing he expected. Mad laughter echoes through the room. “Take that you old fool, I’ve always known one of us would get you someday.” Sam’s first thought is that someone next door must be watching TV but when he turns around, he sees Dean grinning like a kid in a candy store and realizes the laughter is coming from him. 

“Dean, what’s going on?” Sam asks, confused. 

When Dean turns away from the fresh corpse of their father and looks at him, Sam can’t name the expression he sees on his brother’s face. “So long Sam. Have a nice life.” With that Dean turns on his heel and starts towards the door. 

“Dean, stop!” Sam yells, his extreme confusion making him panic. 

Dean freezes in place with his hand on the door handle. “No!” he yells. “No, damn it. This is supposed to be over! I’m supposed to be free.”

Sam still doesn’t understand what’s going on, but he knows it’s not good. “Dean what are you doing?”

“Just let me go Sammy” Dean says, still not moving. “Tell me I can leave.”

“I’m not going to do that. Dean, come here.”

To Sam’s surprise his brother immediately turns around and walks to him, glaring murderously the entire time. “Christo” says Sam, watching his brother’s eyes carefully. Nothing happens. 

“I’m not a demon, Sam.”

“Then just tell me what’s going on because Dad is dead and you are seriously freaking me out.”

“Nothing. Like you said, Dad’s dead, and I just need to be alone for a while.”

Sam’s not buying it. “Tell me the truth.”

“I’m trying to get away because your father has been holding me prisoner for the last twenty years.”

“What?”

Dean sighs, “look Sam, this would all be a lot easier if we just went our separate ways. You can mourn your dad and then you can go back to school or whatever and we can both get on with our lives.”

“Why do you keep saying “your dad”?”

“Because I’m not your brother.”

“Then who are you and what have you done with him?” Sam says, angry now. He wonders if he should be getting out his gun and pointing it at whatever is standing in front of him, but they’re in the middle of a busy hospital and he still doesn’t know what he’s dealing with.

“I didn’t do anything. You never had a brother.”

Sam’s brain is whirling but he’s not in such a state of confusion that he hasn’t picked up on something odd: the creature (or whatever it is) seems to be doing whatever he tells it to. Acting on a hunch, he orders it “explain to me who you are and what is going on right now.”

The creature that looks like Dean glares at him even harder. “I’m a shapeshifter” it spits out “and I’ve spent the last twenty years pretending to be your brother because your father ordered me to.”

“You’re lying.”

“I can’t lie to you; you just ordered me not to. Okay Sam, since you insist on doing this the hard way, here goes. When you were nearly two, and your dad had been hunting a for a little over a year, he ran across a shapeshifter on a case. That was me. After hunting me down like a psycho, instead of just killing me he decided he wanted his own personal slave. He put some kind of curse on me that forced me to obey any order he gave me and then he ordered me to shift into a child and pretend to be your brother.”

Sam doesn’t know if he believes this story or if this is all some kind of trick, but he decides that the best way to figure it out is to get more information. 

“Dad wasn’t some kind of witch. How could he put a curse on you?”

“I don’t know. He forbade me from ever trying to find anything out about it. I assumed it would have been broken when he died but apparently it’s been transferred to you somehow.”

“So, you have to do whatever I tell you?”

“Looks like it.”

Sam thinks to himself about how he can find out how much of this is true and comes up with a plan. He walks over to his bag and pulls out a silver knife. If he orders Dean to touch it and it burns him, it will confirm he’s a shapeshifter and provide more evidence on the whole obedience curse thing. “Come here and put your hand on this” he instructs the creature. 

It walks over and lies its hand on the flat of the blade. Almost immediately its skin begins to sizzle and smoke and it grits its teeth in pain. “Okay stop” Sam says after a long moment, unable to stand the sight of his brother in pain even if it’s not really his brother. 

The creature pulls its burned hand away and cradles it against itself. “Fuck you Sam” it pants. 

Before Sam can process this unwelcome confirmation there’s another knock at the door and the doctor is back. With him comes the whole process of declaring death, and signing papers, and receiving condolences from the hospital. Sam does all of this while the Shifter stands sullenly in the corner. When this is finally over, Sam orders him to follow him to the hospital’s café, which is almost abandoned this time of night and they sit down at a corner table. 

“I never had a brother” Sam whispers, trying to familiarize himself with the concept. Dean was always his rock-solid foundation in an otherwise anchorless childhood and the idea that that was all fake, is difficult for him to process.

“Yep. Congratulations, you’re an only child” the Shifter says flippantly. 

Distantly, Sam realizes that if it wasn’t for this whole thing going on, he would probably be properly grieving his father, but right now, he’s fully in hunter mode, and that means pushing aside his emotions and getting on with the case.

“But I still don’t understand why Dad would have done this?”

“For you Sam. He needed someone to look out for you so he could go off hunting. I was your babysitter and your bodyguard.”

“Did you kill him because you hated him?”

“I did hate him, but I killed him because he ordered me to. I didn’t have a choice Sam, but I won’t pretend to be sad about it.”

“You said earlier that he ordered you to shift into a child. Does that mean that you weren’t really?”

“Well I wasn’t a five-year-old obviously. Did you really think an actual kid that age would be mature enough to look after a baby? I was a teenager at the time, but I was taking the form of an adult. It’s easier to get stuff done that way. You can’t imagine how frustrating it was to be forced to look and act like a five-year-old. Chronologically, I’m about ten years older than my current appearance.”

“Is Dean even your real name?”

“It’s the name your father gave me. I’ve gone by Dean for a lot longer than I have anything else.”

“So, you don’t have a real name?”

“I’m a Shapeshifter Sam. We don’t have permanent names anymore than we have a permanent hair colour or gender.”

“How did I never realize any of this?” Sam asks. The question is largely rhetorical but Dean answers it anyway.

“You’re not as smart as you think you are.”

Sam glares at him. “Okay then, one more question: what were you planning on doing when you tried to leave earlier?”

“I don’t know.” They stare at each other for a while, Dean looking Sam straight in the eyes like he’s daring him to do something. “What are you going to do with me?” he finally asks.

“I don’t know” Sam answers. 

***

Sam finds a motel that night and asks for a room with two queens just like he’s always done. The Shifter follows along sullenly rolling his eyes but doing everything Sam tells him to. Part of Sam thinks about how wrong it is that he’s bringing home the monster that killed his father, but he doesn’t know what else to do. If he just lets it go, then he’s responsible for everything it does afterwards. The only other Shapeshifter Sam has encountered was a crazy serial killer and he doesn’t want to take the risk that this one might decide to take up some similar hobbies if allowed. His only other option would be to kill it, but he knows that he won’t be able to bring himself to do that. 

Exhausted, Sam crawls into bed and watches as the monster does the same. Despite the familiarity of seeing his brother asleep in the next bed, he knows that nothing will ever be the same.


	2. Chapter 2

When Sam wakes up the next morning, he looks over to see if the creature is still asleep and finds it sprawled out on its stomach just like usual. It's then that he notices the lump under its pillow and realizes that it's sleeping with a gun. This shouldn't be surprising, Dean always sleeps with a gun, but things are different now and he feels sick thinking about how it could have just gotten up in the middle of the night, shot him, and taken off. If he's going to stop the monster from hurting anyone then he needs to keep it around, and if he's going to do that then he needs to make sure of his own safety.

***

By the time the monster wakes up about an hour later, Sam thinks he's got a pretty good plan worked out. "When I ordered you to tell me the truth last night" Sam starts off, in lieu of good morning, "that order stayed in effect for the rest of the night."

"Yeah" it replies, looking sad. "Unless you specify a time limit, any order you give me will stay in effect until contradicted by a more recent order."

"Did Dad have any standing orders?"

"Yes" it says, clearly not liking the direction this conversation is going.

"Tell me what they were."

The monster begins to recite:

"1. Do not shift forms without my permission

2\. Do not do anything to directly or indirectly cause harm to me or Sam

3\. Protect Sam at any cost, even your own life

4\. At all times behave as though you are Sam's brother and my son, and you want to be with us

5\. Do not kill or injure any non-supernatural human unless required to do so to follow another order

6\. Do not look for, or incite anyone else to look for, a way to remove the binding spell placed upon you"

Sam considers the list; his dad had actually been pretty clever with the wording. "Are these orders still in effect since his death?"

"Well I haven't had to keep acting like I'm your brother, so I guess not."

Sam swallows, thinking again of the danger he had been in last night without the protection of those standing orders. "Okay, new orders:

1\. Do not shift forms without my permission

2\. Do not do anything to directly or indirectly cause me harm

3\. Do not kill or injure any non-supernatural human unless required to do so to follow another order

4\. Do not look for, or incite anyone else to look for, a way to remove the binding spell placed upon you"

The Shifter looks angry but Sam can tell that it's also considering the orders Sam left off the list. Sam briefly considered including the one about protecting him with his life, but he can't bring himself to order someone to unwillingly die for him, even if that person isn't a person. And as for the one about pretending to be part of their family, Sam is much happier with the order to tell him the truth.

"I have more questions for you."

"I knew you would" it says resignedly.

"Whose body are you copying right now?"

"Nobody's, I made this one up."

"I didn't know Shapeshifters could do that."

"Of course, we can. Copying a living human gives you a psychic connection with that person, which can be useful but after a while you get tired of all the extra noise in your head. It takes longer, but It's better to just come up with an original body to use."

"I want you to tell me about your life before Dad found you. You said you were one of his cases, were you killing people?"

It huffs. "No just stealing stuff. I guess he found it suspicious that George Clooney walked into a bank in the middle of Minnesota one day and took out a bunch of money."

"You turned into George Clooney?"

"I was fifteen" it says defensively. "I wanted the new Atari. I didn't know I was going to end up getting my free will taken away for the rest of my life."

"Didn't you have parents or something?"

"No. Well, I mean, technically yes, I have parents. Shapeshifters aren't turned like vampires or werewolves, we're born and grow up, just without the whole family thing."

"So, then who . . .?"

"This isn't a lifetime movie Sam. Can we just get breakfast already?"

Sam gives in, he supposes that the creature's past isn't really the priority right now anyway.

***

Breakfast proceeds astonishingly normally. The Shifter orders itself the unhealthiest thing on the menu and Sam has to bite back the urge to lecture his brother about heart disease. You don't have a brother and monsters can't die from heart attacks he reminds himself.

After breakfast they go back to the hospital for Dad's body and give him a proper hunter's funeral. The Shifter helps Sam cut wood for the fire, but Sam can't help but resent it for being happy about his father's death.

The next day they get in the car and drive west. The Shifter asks where they're going. Sam doesn't tell him; he doesn't know. For the next few days that's pretty much all they do, drive without direction. After a while Sam orders the Shifter not to drive them off a cliff and lets it take over. It enjoys it more anyway.

It's interesting to Sam to observe what changes and what stays the same about the creature now that it's no longer being forced to play a part. Some things like driving, being fond of the Impala, and a taste for terrible food are the same between Sam's fake brother and the actual monster. Other things are entirely different, like how the Shifter immediately stops wearing the old leather jacket that used to belong to Sam's father.

***

A few mornings into their undirected road trip, the Shifter finds Sam peering intensely at his computer. It walks over and peers over his shoulder as he scrolls through text.

"What are you doing?" it asks.

"Looking into reapplying to Stanford."

"Just like that?"

"Well, what else I'm I supposed to do? The demon is dead. Dad's dead. There's nothing tying me to hunting anymore."

"There are other demons out there and other monsters."

Sam looks pointedly at the Shifter. "I know. But I've never believed that all the evil in the world should somehow be my responsibility. Even Dad was mostly in it for revenge, which he got, I guess. The only idiot who ever thought we needed to save the world was, well Dean, and it turns out that was all fake. So, I'm going back to school. It's bad enough that I'm stuck with you for the foreseeable future, I don't need any other freakiness in my life."

"Ouch Sammy. What about your psychic murder visions, don't they count as freaky?"

"They came from the demon, hopefully I won't have any more of them now."

"So, what's the plan? They going to give you your scholarship back?"

"Maybe. Before I left, I did the paperwork for a leave of absence, because of, you know, mental health reasons. With any luck it should just take filling out a few forms and everything will be back to how it was."

"Wow that simple" the Shifter remarks sarcastically. "What about me?"

"I don't know." Sam is about to tell it that it can do what it wants, but he bites his tongue when he realizes that might be construed as an order and he really doesn't want to find out what the thing wants. "You can get a job or something, I guess."

The Shifter laughs, "can you really picture me as a productive member of society?"

Sam looks over to where it lounges in the chair across from him, feet on the table and eating funyuns for breakfast. He really can't.

***

About a week later Sam knocks on the door of a modest middleclass house a few blocks from the Stanford campus. Securing housing in university towns is never cheap, but fortunately, Sam has the advantage that he's here in the summer, a few months before most students will be arriving for the new semester.

A man in his late sixties answers the door and moves to shake Sam's hand. "Hello, you must be Sam. I'm Byron, it's good to meet you."

"Good to meet you too sir" Sam says shaking his hand.

Byron peers around Sam and sees the Shifter standing behind him. "Oh" he says somewhat awkwrdly, "I didn't realize from your emails that you were looking to rent with a partner."

"This is my brother, Dean" Sam says. It's the first time since he found out the truth that he's referred to the Shifter as either his brother or as Dean. The words come out easily but the untruth of it leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. "The place is two bedrooms isn't it?"

"Yes, it is" Byron agrees. "Are you a student too, Dean?"

"No" the Shifter replies, "I just get dragged around by my little brother."

Byron laughs then opens the door wider, inviting them in. He leads them down a hallway, showing off the various rooms and talking as he goes. "Miranda and I have owned this house for years, but once our kids moved out it was too big for us. We had the place converted into a duplex; thought we'd try to make a bit of money renting out the other half. It's partially furnished, mostly with what other people have left behind."

Sam tunes in and out as Byron continues with the rest of the tour. He thinks back to when he and Jess were first looking for an apartment to move into together. It was only about two years ago, and yet everything has changed. Sam squares his shoulders and mentally shakes himself out of his melancholy. He's here to get back as much of that normal life as he can, he reminds himself. Jess may be dead, and part of him will never fully recover from that, but Sam knows that she would want him to carry on with his life and not be sucked down permanently into the world of darkness like his father had been. "We'll take it" he declares as Byron finishes up his explanations. He spends the next twenty minutes hammering out the details and signing the one-year lease while the Shifter looks on passively.


	3. Chapter 3

Two weeks after moving in, Sam sits in his room, and glares at his laptop. Since neither he nor the Shifter really have very many possessions, their new home is still quite bare, but at least there aren’t piles of boxes everywhere to trip him up. There were a couple of cheap beds already here, no better or worse than what they were used to in motels, and he’d managed to find himself a desk and chair at a nearby thrift shop. No doubt it was abandoned there by some other student, recently finished his degree, who was moving on to bigger and better desks. The rest of the furniture will come in time. At least it will if Sam can find a way to pay for any of it.

When he’d first contacted Stanford about coming back, they’d agreed to restore his scholarship, but there had been conditions. Since, technically, he’d been off on mental health leave, he’d had to provide evidence that he had been getting counselling while away. He hadn’t thought it would be a problem, a letter from a fake psychologist is a lot easier to forge than an FBI badge afterall, but now the university just kept tacking on more and more obstacles and conditions. “Tight fisted bastards” he mumbled to himself. It didn’t help that instead of a girlfriend with a part-time job, he’s now living with a literal freeloading monster. Speaking of whom . . .

The Shifter looks in at Sam as it walks down the hall to its own room. “You look tense” it says, sticking its head in, “what’s wrong?”

Sam turns his glare from his computer to his not-brother. “What’s wrong? Really? My girlfriend died. My father died. My brother, it turns out, never actually existed.”

“I meant specifically, is there anything wrong right now?”

Sam sighs, the Stanford bureaucracy isn’t exactly the Shifter’s fault afterall. “I’m just not sure how I’m going to pay for school. I could get loans, but I’d probably still have to get a part time job, and maybe not take on a full course load to start off with, which means that it will take longer than I’d planned to graduate.” The Shifter takes a sip of the beer he apparently got up to get and says nothing. “You could always help you know, get a job or something.”

“Is that an order?” it asks. 

“No, I’ve told you before, I’m not going to use you as a slave.”

“So, what happened to your scholarship?”

“They want to meet Dad.”

“What? Why?”

Sam leans his elbows on his desk and rubs at his temple. “Look, the scholarship they gave me was a massive amount of money. When they first gave it to me, I had to fill out mountains of paperwork, agree to meet all sorts of conditions to do with course load, GPA, academic integrity. I was still a teenager at the time, so in order to actually get the money, I had to have everything co-signed by an adult.”

“You faked John’s signature.”

“It was hardly the first time, but now that I’m coming back after a year, they’re being extra cautious about everything. I’m supposed to meet with a faculty advisor and I’m supposed to bring him with me.”

“I’ll do it” the Shifter volunteers. 

“What?” Sam asks. 

“I’ll go with you to the meeting, as him.”

“You’re going to pretend to be my Dad?”

“If you want me to” it says, shrugging. 

Sam stares at it for a moment. The idea of anyone impersonating his father, especially the thing that killed him, is intrinsically disturbing, but he really doesn’t have any better ideas and if he’s going to be stuck dragging around the Shifter for the rest of his life, maybe it wouldn’t be so terrible for it to be useful once in a while. “Okay” he says, “I’ll set up the meeting.”

“And do I have your permission to shift forms?” it prompts. 

“You do” he agrees and starts working on an email to the university. 

***

When the day of the meeting arrives, Sam waits for the Shifter by the door nervously, passing his paperwork back and forth in his hands. He watches as the door to their shared bathroom opens and his father steps out. The Shifter has put on some old clothes that used to belong to John; he’s even walking like him, and the affect in unbelievably eerie.  
“What?” the Shifter asks, noticing him staring. 

“Nothing. It’s just that you look so much like him.” 

“Well, what did you expect? I know you remember the shapeshifter in St. Louis; this isn’t the first time you’ve seen something like this.”

“Yeah” Sam agrees and hands the Shifter the keys to the Impala. Getting into the front seat beside his father reminds Sam so much of his childhood that he’s actually surprised Dean isn’t in the backseat, except “Dean” is actually the one beside him and the whole thing is giving him a headache. The drive to the university is a short one, but Sam still feels the need to fill the silence. 

“So, about that shifter in St. Louis, did he know what you are?”

“Yes” it answers tersely in John Winchester’s gruff voice. 

“And did the two of you, I don’t know, talk or something?”

“We didn’t hatch an evil plan to team up and destroy the planet or something if that’s what you mean. He was the only other shapeshifter I’ve ever met. Probably ditto for him, so yes we talked a little.”

“Then why do you think he went after you like that?”

“I don’t know Sam, maybe he didn’t like the competition.”

Sam lets the conversation drop and it’s the Shifter who breaks the silence a few minutes later as he’s pulling into the parking lot. “You need to give me permission to lie to you.”

“Why?”

“Because otherwise we’re going to get in there, you’ll be answering some question and then you’ll say “isn’t that right Dad?” or something like that and I’ll have to say “No Sam that isn’t right and I’m not actually your dad I’m just a shapeshifter taking his form”. I don’t think that’d go over very well with the admissions people would it?”

“That’s an oddly specific example.”

“It happened one time when I was on a hunt with John and we were pretending to be FBI. He was not happy about me blowing our cover.”

Sam grunts in amusement, imaging the scene. “Fine. You have my permission to lie to me, but only for the duration of this meeting. How’s that?”

“Good enough.”

***

Sam has to admit, the Shifter played his part to a T. If he didn’t know better, Sam himself would have said that it was his father sitting beside him in that meeting. Granted, his actual father probably wouldn’t be interested enough in his son’s school to flip through some of admissions brochures left out while they were waiting, but nobody from Stanford knew that. Otherwise, it was a flawless impersonation and when they got home, he said as much. 

“You did really good back there” he tells the Shifter.

“Well, what were you expecting? Seriously Sam, that’s like complimenting a vampire on being good at drinking blood. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to go change. I can’t stand being in this monster’s skin.”  
Sam watches as it walks to the bathroom, presumably to shed. He should have known better than to try and be nice to a monster.


	4. Chapter 4

Part of Sam knows that he’s having a nightmare but it’s not enough for him to be able to force himself to wake up. He watches helplessly as a seemingly normal man shoots a store clerk before turning the gun on himself. It’s horrifying to see, especially since some part of him knows that it isn’t just a dream. When it ends however, he feels soft hands on his arm, comforting him. 

“Shh Sam, It’s okay. I’m right here” a familiar voice reassures him. 

“Jess?” he mumbles sleepily, opening his eyes to see her bright blonde curls spread out across the mattress in front of him. For about two seconds, it’s perfect. He can believe that the last year has all been a nightmare that he’s just woken up from, and that Jess is alive and well and right in front of him. Then the rest of his brain catches up and he jerks back from her touch, realizing that Jess can’t actually be Jess. 

“Get away from me” he shouts, pushing it back instinctively. The thing that looks like Jess gets up off the bed on the opposite side of Sam and backs up a few steps, and Sam can see that it’s wearing only an oversized T-shirt hanging down over Jessica’s long legs. “Dean?” he pants angrily. 

“Not at the moment. You were having a nightmare Sam; just let me help you.”

“And what makes you think I’d want any kind of help from you?”

“Your Dad used to have the same kind of dreams about Mary, and sometimes he’d get me to . . .”

“Don’t!” Sam yells furiously. “You’re not her. You’re not even human. Don’t touch me with her hands and don’t you ever look like her again!”

“Understood” it says, it’s expression carefully neutral. It retreats from the room and Sam slumps down onto the floor still trying to catch his breath. 

***

Sam is not in a good mood the next morning, between his grisly nightmare and nearly being molested he hadn’t really gotten a lot of sleep and when the Shifter strolls into the kitchen, thankfully back to looking like Dean, he is not high on patience. The Shifter starts to make it’s way over to the coffee pot but Sam interrupts it with a command. “Sit down.” 

“What?” the Shifter asks, taking a seat at thrift store salvaged table and glaring up at him. 

“We need to talk about last night.”

The Shifter sighs, “Sam, I’m sorry okay. I was just trying to help.”

“What you did was the opposite of helpful. It was totally inappropriate.”

“Yeah, I got the message okay? No more turning into your dead exes.” 

“Tell me how you were able to do it. I ordered you not to shift without my permission.”

“You did, but then a few days ago you gave me permission when I turned into your father.”

“And I forgot to rescind it.” Sam mentally kicks himself. He’s resolved that watching over this creature will be his last duty as a hunter and stupid mistakes like that could get someone killed. “Okay, I’ll fix that now. Do not shift forms without my permission.”

“Fine. Can I get some coffee now?”

“I guess.” Sam wonders if he should try to punish it somehow for last night’s debacle but decides it’s probably pointless to try and instill ethics into a monster. It’d be like beating a puppy for peeing on the floor after you left it inside all day. Really, this is as much his fault as it’s. 

The Shifter gets it’s all-important caffeine and sits down exactly where it had been a moment ago. Sam thinks he sees a flash of nictitating membranes as it wipes sleep from it’s currently green eyes. “So, what were you dreaming about anyway?” it asks. “Whatever it was sure had you screaming like a girl.”

“I don’t really know. It was a murder, I guess. Some guy got a phone call, then went into a gun store, shot the clerk and then himself.”

“Weird. You don’t think this was another of your vision things, was it?”

“Yeah, I think it probably was.”

“What?” the Shifter sits up straighter now. “Then why aren’t we doing anything about it? We should try and figure out where this is going to happen.”

“Because its not my problem. I’m done with that part of my life, for good this time. Besides there’s not even any evidence that this is supernatural; could be just an ordinary murder.”

“I’d say the fact that you saw it happen in a prophetic vision is evidence enough” the Shifter argues. 

“Hunting has cost me everything. I don’t have anything left to give anymore. The demon is dead, and I’m retired.”

“You won’t be able to just sit around, Sam, not while people are in danger.”

“And why not, exactly?” Sam asks sarcastically, he’s getting tired of this little guilt trip. 

“Because I raised you better than that.”

Sam sputters, trying to come up with a plausible denial and finds he can’t do it. Dean was the one who raised him, at least as much as his father did, which means really it was really the Shifter that raised him. Sam isn’t sure what to think about that. Ever since he found out the truth about his not-brother, almost every facet of his life has had to be recontextualized in light of that new information. Its like the pieces of his life have all been shuffled around and he’s still a long way from making everything fit back together. Still, the Shifter might be right about this one. 

“I have school” he says trying to reason himself out of going. 

“School doesn’t start for weeks. We have lots of time.”

“That’s what you said last time.”

“Huh?” it asks, confused. 

“Last year. When you showed up in my apartment in the middle of the night asking me to go with you. You said it was just one more job, a short drive away, I’d be back in plenty of time for the interview.”

“I know and I’m sorry about how that turned out, but you’re a good man Sam. That’s why you came with me then, and that’s why you’ll do this now.”

Sam stares across the tiny kitchen for almost a solid minute before heading to his room and turning on his laptop. 

***

It takes Sam a few hours worth of computer searches to track down the company belonging to a specific logo he saw in the vision, but when he does it gives them a location: Guthrie, Oklahoma. Within thirty minutes of that discovery, they’re on the road. 

As soon as they pull out the Shifter is popping one of his Metallica tapes in and cranking up the stereo. Sam seriously thinks about ordering it to turn it down but decides against it; it’s familiar. What’s less familiar is that when the Shifter starts singing along to Enter Sandman, it actually sounds good. 

Sam looks over at it incredulously. “You can sing?”

The Shifter interrupts itself long enough to answer, “yep.”

“All these years I’ve had to put up with your off-key caterwauling and you were faking it the whole time? Why on earth would you do that?”

“Because I’ve heard both you and your dad try to sing before. Believe me it would have been absolutely inconceivable that you could be related to someone with a shred of musical ability.”

“Damn” says Sam, not sure whether to be annoyed or impressed. He closes his eyes and lets himself relax to the mixed vocal talents of James Hetfield and a shapeshifter. 

***

Guthrie isn’t a large town, and once they arrive it doesn’t take them long to find the gun store from the vision. The Shifter pulls the Impala up to the curb, “stakeout time” it says. 

Sam nods. “I’ll take the first shift. There’s a café across the street I can watch from. You can take the car and go find a motel.”

“Are you sure, man? I can watch for a while.”

“No, you’ve been driving all day, go take a rest. I’ve got this.”

It shrugs but doesn’t argue. Sam swings open the car door and heads for the café across the street, keeping one eye on the shop as he goes. He doesn’t know when the shooting is going to happen, but he knows it’ll be during the day. He can watch for a few hours, then trade off, keep it going until something happens.

He orders a coffee and sips it slowly, nodding when the pretty young waitress, whose name is Tracey, asks if he’d like a refill. 

“So, what brings you to Guthrie?” Tracey asks. 

Sam looks up at her reluctantly, not wanting to take his eyes away from the window for even an instant. She’s the type of girl that Dean would have been all over if he were here (and existed), blonde hair, impressive curves, and a sweet face. 

“Just passing through” he mumbles, hoping she’ll get the hint and leave him alone. Fortunately, she’s distracted when a young man walks into the diner and approaches her. 

“Hey Tracey, have you seen Andy?” 

“Not today Webber” she says turning away from Sam, who gratefully goes back to staring out the window. 

It’s maybe an hour later that Sam sees the Impala pull up outside. His first thought, of the Shifter being here to take over the stakeout, is squashed when someone completely unfamiliar climbs out of the driver’s seat and walks into the diner. Sam tries to think if there’s a way the Shifter could have gotten around its orders not to change forms again, but he knows he’s been careful; this must be someone else. The man is about his age, with curly brown hair and a wiry frame. Sam watches as he approaches his waitress. 

“Tracey!” he yells exuberantly, “check out the new ride.”

“It’s real nice Andy” Tracey says, smiling indulgently. “Where’d you get it?”

“Some guy gave it to me.”

“He just gave it to you?” she asks.

“Yeah, I asked and he gave it to me. I was thinking I could use it to take you out tonight.”

“Well, it certainly has more class than the van.”

As they continue talking, Sam gets up and makes his way over. Moving quickly, he grabs this Andy guy by the collar and pushes him against the counter. “Tell me how you got that car.”

“Woah man, chill. Someone gave it to me okay? Let me go.”

“Like Hell, I’m letting you go. That’s my brother’s car and you’re going to tell me how you go it right now.”

A look of complete shock crosses Andy’s face. “How are you . . .?” he starts to ask, but is interrupted by a yell from Tracey.

“Hey!” she shouts grabbing both of their attention. “You’re going to let Andy go and walk out of here” she waves a phone in front of her, “or I’m going to call the cops.”

Sam slowly releases Andy, trying to determine a next move that won’t land him in jail.

“Good” Tracey says. “Now Andy, why don’t you give this man back his car so he can leave and we can all get on with our days.”

“Yeah. Yeah, okay” replies Andy visibly shaken as he hands Sam the Impala’s keys. “Here you go man.” 

Sam takes them and walks out. He goes immediately to the Impala and looks her over. Everything’s the same but there’s no sign of the Shifter. He’s trying to decide whether he should look for him or stay on mission and continue guarding the gun shop when he sees a familiar figure strolling down the street. It’s the man from his vision and Sam watches as he pulls out his cell phone and answers it. He sees the man nodding before hanging up the phone and changing direction to head into the gun store. 

Sam races into the store after him. The man is standing at the counter talking to the clerk exactly like in the vision and Sam knows what’s going to happen next. Acting quickly, he pulls the fire alarm and runs from the store followed closely by everyone else inside. He pants in relief, glad that something is finally going right on this stupid hunt. It’s then that he sees the Shifter running up to him. 

“Sam, what happened?”

“I got him out of the store. What happened to you? How’d you lose the Impala?”

“I don’t know. I was talking to this guy outside the motel and he just asked for it and I gave it to him. It was like he was able to control me, like you can, but that shouldn’t be possible.”

A light goes on in Sam’s head as he starts to put the pieces together. He doesn’t notice until it’s too late as the man he was trying to save suddenly steps off the sidewalk and is hit by a bus.


	5. Chapter 5

“I should have stayed with him.”

“There’s no point in beating yourself up Sam, we’ve lost people before. The important thing now is catching the bastard that did it.”

“It had to be Andy.”

“Who?” the Shifter asks. 

“That’s the guy who stole in Impala. Brown hair, skinny.”

“Yeah, that’s him alright.”

“You said that he was able to make you do what he told you to. He must have done the same thing to the victim.”

“Okay, buy why? And how?”

“I don’t know.”

The Shifter groans, “that means it’s research time doesn’t it?”

“It sure does.” Sam flips open his laptop and gets to work.

***

Three hours and one clandestine trip to the public records office later, and Sam is less than pleased with the results of his research. Andrew Gallagher was born in 1982, making him 23 years old. Public records indicate that his mother died in a fire when he was exactly six months old. Which makes him another of the demon’s psychic kids. First Max, now Andy, so far everyone of the kids they’ve run into has been a murder and it’s freaking Sam out.   
Sam shares the news with the Shifter who dismisses his concerns entirely. 

“You’re not a killer Sam, and you never will be.”

“But this is a pattern. Everyone of us that we’ve run into has gone evil. Who’s to say I won’t too?”

“You won’t because you have a choice, Sam. Look, I’ve no idea what old Yellow Eyes had in mind when he juiced up a bunch of babies with superpowers, nothing good probably, but it doesn’t matter now. He’s dead and you’ve got freewill. You don’t have to be what he wanted you to be.” The Shifter hesitates before continuing. “Look, I know you think I’m a monster, but I’ve never killed anyone. Never killed anyone human, at least. I’m not like the shifter we met in St. Louis and you don’t have to be like them either.

Sam says nothing. Part of him wants to be comforted, wants to take shelter in his big brother’s words, but the other part recognizes the irony of being reassured that he’s not a monster by an actual monster. “Let’s go find this guy” he finally says. 

***

It isn’t hard to find Andy. Someone who drives a van with a barbarian queen riding a polar bear painted on the side isn’t exactly subtle. They follow him around surreptitiously for a few hours as he goes about his business. They wait outside while he stops by the diner again and talks to Tracey for a few minutes. A few blocks outside the diner they follow him around a street corner and find him waiting for them.

“Tell me why you’re following me” he demands. 

Sam tries to think of a plausible lie fast, but he never gets the chance. “We’re hunters” says the Shifter, “we hunt demons, spirits, things your worst nightmare wouldn’t even touch.”

“What are you doing?” Sam shouts at the Shifter, incredulous. 

“I can’t stop” it tells him before continuing to pour everything out to Andy. “We stop them from killing people and we’re following you because we think you mind whammied a guy into killing himself.”

“What?” Andy asks, disbelieving. “Do you mean Dr. Jennings this morning? You think I ordered him to jump in front of a bus? And how do you know about me anyway?”

The Shifter keeps going, answering his questions. “Dude, I gave you my car. No way that happens without mind control. Plus, Sam here is psychic too.”

The Shifter is visibly struggling for control, trying to stop itself, and with Andy’s last question answered it manages to blurt out “Sam order me to stop.”

“Stop talking” Sam says immediately, understanding it’s plan. If he’s controlling the Shifter then maybe Andy can’t. 

“No, don’t stop talking” Andy counters, “tell me what the hell is going on here!”

The Shifter starts to turn red, it backs up against the wall and slides down it, panting like it’s in pain, but it doesn’t talk.”

Andy stares at Sam. “You really are like me.”

“No” says Sam, “well, actually yes but that’s not what that was. Now why did you kill that guy?”

“I didn’t . . .”

Sam doesn’t hear the rest of Andy’s denial because just then his vision whites out and suddenly he’s watching a woman fill up her car at a gas station. Her cell phone rings and she answers it, listening for a moment before nodding in response to whatever’s been said. She ends the call, walks over to the gas pump, and starts pouring gasoline on herself. Next, she pulls out a lighter and goes up in a burst of flames.   
When Sam comes to, he’s lying on the ground, with Andy and the Shifter, who seems to have recovered somewhat, both staring at him.

“What was that?” Andy asks. 

“A vision. They’re my thing. I saw one of the doctor dying and I saw one just now of someone else lighting themselves on fire. Which means that we’re not letting you out of our sight until I know for sure she’s safe.”

Sam feels a tap on his shoulder and turns around to see the Shifter raising an eyebrow at him. “Oh, right. You can talk again now.”

“Do you know where this is going to happen?” it asks. 

“Yeah, it was at the gas station we drove past on the way into town.” Sam also gives the woman’s description and the Shifter takes off to try and find her, leaving Sam to watch Andy. 

It’s maybe twenty minuets later that the Shifter calls him. “I’m sorry Sam. I didn’t make it in time.”

“But that doesn’t make any sense. I was with Andy the whole time and he never made any calls.”

“Then I guess it’s not him. I did manage to find out the victims name: Holly Beckett.”

“Holly Beckett?” Sam confirms. 

“Yeah, does that mean something?”

“That’s Andy’s mother.”

“What?” asks Andy who can only hear half the conversation. Sam switches to speaker phone and continues. 

“When I was researching Andy earlier. I found his birth certificate. His mother’s name was Holly Beckett. And Dr. Jennings, I should have recognized his name earlier. He was the one who delivered him.” Sam could slap himself for not realizing it sooner.

“I’m adopted” Andy muses. “I never knew her name and now she’s dead.”

“Well, then he’s obviously connected to this somehow” the Shifter states, “but if he’s not the one doing it then who is?”

“His brother” answers Sam. 

“My what?” sputters Andy. 

“Holly Beckett gave birth to twins” Sam explains. “You have a brother. His name is Webber. Maybe he has the same abilities that you do.” 

“Webber is my brother?”

“You know him?” Sam asks. 

“Yeah, he’s always hanging around, trying to get me to hang out with him. Holy shit. He just showed up eight months ago out of nowhere. I thought he was a bit of a weirdo to be honest. Do you really think he’s killing people?”  
Sam tries to answer, but before he can he’s hit with another vision. He’s never had so many in such close succession and he wishes his brain would give him a break. Still, he can’t help but watch as a familiar blonde walks to the edge of a dam and throws herself over. When he comes back to himself, he scrambles for his dropped phone. “Dude, you need to get over here now.”

***

The Shifter picks them both up and Andy gives them directions to the place Sam described from his vision. They pull up to the edge of the dam and Sam is relieved to see Webber talking to Tracey a few feet from the edge. This time they’re not too late. 

“You stay back” he says to the Shifter, “the last thing we need is him trying to control you.” It nods and sighs, reluctantly agreeing with him. 

Sam pulls out his gun and walks towards the pair with Andy following close behind him. “You step away from her” he orders. 

Webber turns around and sees them, “go away!” he yells, but both Sam and Andy keep coming. 

“I said step away from her” reiterates Sam as he holds his gun to Webber’s head.

Webber takes a step back, pretending to cooperate, “Tracey, be a dear and run over to the edge of the dam for me” he blurts out before anyone can stop him. Sure enough she runs. 

“No!” shouts Andy, running after her. 

“If they come within 5 feet of you, then jump” Webber adds on and Andy stops where he is. 

“Why are you doing this?” Andy yells Webber. “You killed Dr. Jennings, and then our mother, and now Tracey? If you’re my brother, then why would you do this?”

“They split us up. We should have been brothers this whole time. Think of everything we missed out on. They deserved to be punished.”

“And Tracey?”

“She’s all you pay attention to. She was getting in our way. Six months ago, the man with the yellow eyes came to me and told me we had to be prepared. Then he told me about you. I don’t know what’s coming Andy, but I know we’ll be stronger together. Come wi . . .”

Webber’s speech is interrupted by the sound of a gunshot ringing out. One moment he’s up and talking and the next his body falls to the ground like a ragdoll. 

Sam sees him fall and his eyes dart immediately to Tracey, standing by the edge of the dam, but she makes no move to jump. In fact, she turns around and starts coming back towards them. At the same time, he sees the Shifter crawling out of some bushes with their best sniper rifle. 

***

“Don’t you think that was too much of a risk?” Sam asks, a few hours later as they head back to California. “Tracey could have killed herself as soon as you fired.”

“No, Sam. I was listening carefully. I know how this command stuff works and you’ve got to be really careful with the wording. He ordered her to jump if either you or Andy hurt him, but he didn’t know I was there, so she was never in any danger from me killing him.”

“Damn, you’ve got good hearing. I suppose that comes with the whole shapeshifter package.”

“Yeah” it agrees. 

“So, what do you think it was talking about?” Sam asks. 

“What?”

“The demon. Webber said it visited him and told him to be prepared. Prepared for what?”

“It doesn’t matter, the demon’s dead and so are it’s plans” it says. 

“I hope you’re right.”


	6. Chapter 6

Sam slams his textbook closed as the clock turned to 11:00 PM; his allotted study time was over for the night. Admittedly, the first few weeks of class had been tough as he worked to get back into the swing of things, but he had now settled on a firm routine: classes in the morning, picking up some extra cash through tutoring first years in the afternoons, and studying in the evenings. At the end of the summer he had resubmitted his application to law school and in a few weeks interview invitations would be going out. As long as they didn’t ask too many questions about what he’d been doing during the last year, Sam knew his chances of getting in were good. His life was back on track. Almost.

Several hours later, Sam jerks awake to the sound of the front door opening and the thudding of heavy boots as the Shifter makes it’s way into the apartment, finally returning home from wherever it is that it goes at night. This has been a disturbing pattern over the last couple weeks, most of the time it doesn’t make it back until the wee hours of the morning, smelling like alcohol and waking Sam up as it lets itself in. Sam’s thought hard about ordering it to get a job, or drink less, or something, but he refuses to become the bad guy in this scenario. No matter how much the Shifter likes to go on about its freedom being violated, it is not Sam’s slave. If anything, it’s a freeloader since it’s Sam’s scholarship paying for their accommodations. Sam pulls his pillow over his head and tries to go back to sleep. 

***

The next morning, Sam wakes up on the wrong side of the bed. The weeks of intense work have been wearing on him and he had a hard time getting back to sleep after being woken up that night. At least that had given him plenty of time to compose a great lecture for the Shifter while he was lying there staring at the ceiling. As soon as he hears movement in the hall, he’s out his door and on the attack. 

“Hey” he says to the figure heading down the hall toward the bathroom, “we need to talk.” 

“Do we have to right now Sam?” it asks glancing at it’s watch. Sam notes enviously that shapeshifters must have excellent constitutions because it doesn’t appear the least bit hungover. 

“What? Are you going to be late for another full day of sitting on the couch doing nothing? I’m the one with classes to get to so we’re going to have to make this fast. Look, I’ve tried to be nice but the way you’re acting can’t go on. You and I are stuck with each other and I’m not going to spend the rest of my life being woken up by you crawling back from some bar every night. I’m trying to make the best of this situation and you should too, and that means that you have to get a life. Not one you’ve borrowed from someone else, or just made up as a disguise, but your own life. I don’t even care what you do just please do something besides sitting at home all day then going out at night and getting drunk.”

“Is that what you think I’ve been doing?” it asks indignantly. “You think I just sit around while you go off and work everyday? You think I’ve never had a life?” It glares at him as they face each other down in the middle of the hallway. “Well, guess what Sam, I did have a life and sure some of it was fake but not nearly as much as you seem to think! I had hunting and I had you. Now I’m not allowed to hunt anymore, and you won’t even look at me.”

Sam scoffs. “Don’t pretend to care about me. The first thing you did when you thought the spell was broken was to try to walk out the door. If you ever really cared about me, if any small part of you ever actually thought of me as a brother then you wouldn’t have abandoned me right after my father died, when I needed you most.”

The Shifter’s face goes stony like it always did when Dean didn’t want to talk about something. The sight of it makes Sam sick. “I have a job” it says finally. “I’ve been working late tending bar. That’s why I get home late and why I’m at the pub every night. Your scholarship isn’t anywhere near enough to cover living expenses for two people. If you actually pulled your head out of your books once in a while you might have noticed the groceries that magically appear on the shelves every week because I’ve been buying and paying for them. Of course, your whole life I’ve taken care of making sure you had enough to eat, so why should I expect you to notice now?” It pauses for a moment, seemingly trying to steady itself. “Get to class Sam, you’re going to be late.” With that, it wheels into the bathroom and slams the door.

***

Sam spends the rest of the day oscillating between feeling angry, feeling guilty, and then feeling angry that he feels guilty. By the time he gets back home for the day, the entire cycle has left him mentally exhausted and more than ready for the upcoming weekend. Unfortunately for Sam, just as he’s exiting the library from a Friday afternoon tutoring session, someone jogs up to him. 

She’s a brunette, probably mid-twenties, and out of breath from running. “It’s you. I finally found you” she pants.

“Have we met?” Sam asks trying to stay polite. 

“No, my name is Ava and you’re probably going to think I’m insane, but someone is coming to kill you.”


	7. Chapter 7

Sam brings Ava back to the apartment so they can talk more and is grateful that the Shifter is out somewhere. Ava herself seems gratefully surprised by how quickly she is able to convince Sam that she is not, in fact, insane. 

“I had some kind of vision, I think” she explains to him. “I’ve been having them over a year actually, but I didn’t think they were real. Then a few weeks ago I dreamt about some guy getting stabbed in a parking lot and when I was watching the news the next morning there was a story about a guy dying exactly the same way. A few days ago, I had another one, of you, getting blown up.” 

“Blown up?” Sam asks, raising his eyebrows. I didn’t particularly sound like something a monster would do. 

“Yeah, you were, like, trying to sneak into this abandoned building, and then you set off some kind of tripwire.”

“Did you see who set it? The tripwire?”

“No, I didn’t see anyone besides you. So, you really believe me then?”

“I really do. Ava, this may seem like a strange question, but did you mother happen to die when you were a baby?”

Ava’s expression suggests she might be starting to think Sam is the crazy one. “No, my mother lives in Palm Beach.” 

“Then you don’t fit the pattern” Sam muses to himself.

“What pattern?”

Sam sighs and settles in for a long explanation. “You see, the reason I know you’re not crazy is, you’re not the only one to have visions. I get them too. There’s a whole group of us, all the same age, I don’t know how many, but we all have abilities.”

“Like in the X-men?” she asks, skeptically. 

“Sort of.”

“So, what do we do about the whole you getting blown up thing?”

Sam is about to answer when he’s distracted by his cell phone going off. He fishes it out of his pocket and glances at the number on the screen, it’s the Shifter. He flips the phone open with a grimace; he’s not exactly eager to talk after how their last conversation ended. “Look, now’s not really the best time. 

“Doesn’t matter. Sam, we need to talk.”

“About what?”

“About how I’m sick of this Funky Town. It was a mistake to come here. I’m supposed to be a hunter.”

“Umm, okay” Sam says, flustered. “Where are you now?”

“5637 Monroe St. Think you can come meet me?”

“Yeah, yeah, I can do that. I’ll be there soon.”

Sam ends the call, his brain moving a mile a minute. 

“What was that all about?” Ava asks. 

“My, uh, brother. He’s in trouble.”

“What?”

“He gave me a code word. Someone’s got a gun on him.”

“A code word?” Ava asks, probably wondering when her life turned into a combination of Alias and the X-files. 

“Funky Town. His idea. Anyways, I’ve got to go help him and you should probably get out of here.”

“What? But this is probably how you get yourself killed. I can’t leave now.”

“I have to go after him and thanks to your warning, I know what to expect. I’ll be fine.”

“Maybe I could help.”

“You’ve done all you can. If I get anymore information about where the visions are coming from, I’ll call you. In the meantime, you need to go home where its safe.”

***

The address that the Shifter gave him belongs to an old house on the outskirts of town that has clearly seen better days. Sam sneaks around back, hoping the floorboards wouldn’t give out on him and give him away. He comes across the trip wire exactly where Ava had said it would be and steps over it carefully. 

Sam walks as quietly as he can down the hallway and peers into the front room from around the corner. He sees the Shifter tied to chair and gagged, a gun held to his head by a man with dark skin and a mean look in his eyes. Ideally, he would be able to take out the guy from where he’s hiding, but his handgun isn’t exactly a sniper rifle, so he makes his way forward. 

Sam moves forward and the man looks up as the floorboards creak, his face breaking into an almost gleeful grin. “There he is!” he exclaims happily, “your brother here didn’t think you were going to show.”

“Who are you and what do you want?” Sam demands. 

“Names Gordon. I’m a hunter.”

“A hunter?” Sam asks. His first thought is that maybe this guy somehow found out he had a shapeshifter living with him and is here to take it out, but if that were the case, he would have just done it already. 

“That’s right a hunter, I know you know all about those. You see, I’ve done my research on you Sam. I know who you are and I know what you are. Ever since I found out about your kind I’ve been busy wiping up the mess.”

“I don’t know what you mean by my kind. I’m human.”

“I know you are and that makes it even worse, you’re a filthy traitor, working with demons. You see, I’ve been following the signs. A man decapitated by a window in Michigan, a kid in Texas who zapped his neighbors’ cat with lightening, and a lady in Oklahoma who set herself on fire at a gas station. All the work of freaks like you. I’ve got connections that helped me figure out the pattern. All of them were the same age and all of their mothers died when they were little. And you know who else fits happens to that pattern Sam? You do.”

Sam swallows nervously, trying to focus. He looks into Gordon’s eyes which are simultaneously hard and mirthful and then down into the Shifter’s. The Shifter looks at him earnestly, like he’s begging Sam to do something. Save him? Get out of there? Sam’s not sure. 

“So, here’s how this is going to play out” Gordon continues. “You’re going to drop the gun and I won’t put a whole in your brother’s brain.” 

Sam thinks quickly. Even though he’s a hunter, its extremely unlikely that Gordon has silver bullets loaded right now, which means that theoretically, the Shifter would survive even if shot. Still, Sam really doesn’t want to see what recovering from an injury like that would be like. Maybe he’d end up alive but with permanent brain damage or something. Which means of course, that Sam really only has one option. 

“Okay, okay” he says as he bends over and places his handgun on the floorboards near Gordon’s feet. 

“There we go” says Gordon, casually aiming the gun away from the Shifter and swinging it around in a lazy arc towards Sam. There’s half a second during this transition when the gun isn’t aimed at either of them, when it’s only aimed at the wall, and Sam doesn’t waste the opportunity. He kicks out, using his reach advantage to its full extent and knocking the gun out of Gordon’s hand. Gordon curses and tries to run after it but Sam tackles him and they both fall to the floor, Sam landing as heavily as he can on the smaller man. Sam feels a flare of pain as Gordon knees him in the side but he doesn’t let up and delivers two quick punches to Gordon’s chin, knocking him unconscious. 

Sam gets to his feet, breathing heavily and buzzing with adrenalin. Walking over, he tugs down the cloth that was tied around the Shifter’s mouth. “You alright?” he asks. 

“Dude, that was badass!” it exclaims. Sam grins as he pulls out his knife and starts to cut the Shifter free. “Seriously, it was like you were Batman. I can’t believer you did that.” It climbs to it’s feet, rubbing it’s legs where the circulation had been cut off. “So, what are we going to do with him?” it asks, nudging Gordon with the toe of it’s boot.

“Yeah, I had an idea about that” says Sam and as he explains it the Shifter’s grin gets even wider. 

***

Thirty minutes later the two of them are sitting in the Impala driving home when they’re forced to pull over as multiple police cars race in the direction they’ve just come from. It turns out this Gordon guy really did kill one of the other special kids he’d been talking about and a quick anonymous tip to the police is enough to get the cops hurrying over to where he’s still napping on the floor of an abandoned house. 

“Well, that should take care of him for at least seven years or so” says Sam, pleased with himself. 

“Yeah” agrees the Shifter. “Listen man, thank you for coming to get me. I appreciate it.”

Sam doesn’t respond right away. Thinking about it in retrospect and from a purely logical perspective, it probably didn’t really make much sense for him to have risked his life to save a shapeshifter, but as soon as he knew it was in trouble, he hadn’t even hesitated. 

The Shifter seems to take his silence as a cue to keep talking. “And, umm, about what you said earlier, about how I tried to leave . . . I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. It’s just I was stuck for so long and then suddenly I was free, or at least I thought I was.” The Shifter sighs like it knows that it’s botching this. It never has been good at talking about things. “It wasn’t you I was trying to leave, but I’m still sorry.”

Sam doesn’t know what to say so he settles for a non-committal grunt. The Shifter, however, seems to take this as a positive sign and smiles slightly. “I won’t leave you again.”

***

Later that evening, Sam tries to phone Ava to let her know what happened but she doesn't pick up. He shrugs and hangs up the phone.


	8. Chapter 8

Time goes by. Now that he knows that the Shifter is actually working and not just going out every night drinking, he tolerates it’s comings and goings better. The end of the semester arrives and Sam passes all of his courses with flying colours, just as he always does. He only has one more semester to go before graduating and his law school application has been resubmitted. With any luck, he’ll get another invitation to interview soon and be well on his way to matriculating. 

Other than the Shifter hanging a few sad decorations around the apartment, Christmas passes mostly unremarked, which is fine by Sam. All the holiday really accomplishes is to remind him that he’s become one of those sad sacks with no one to celebrate with, which seems terribly unfair given that he’s only 23, and no where near old enough for a midlife crisis. The friends he used to have at Stanford have mostly graduated ahead of him and those who are left, he really has no desire to see. They were Jessica’s friends first and the last thing he wants is to think about her. 

Classes start again in January and Sam rushes into the new year with eagerness and maybe even a little hope. He knows that he’ll never exactly get over the events of the previous eighteen months, but at least now, his life is more or less back on track. Even having to keep watch over the Shifter for the rest his life no longer seems like quite the prison sentence it did at first. He’s gotten used to having it around, he even finds himself sort of appreciating it sometimes. When its not working at the pub, it sometimes cooks dinner for the two of them and it’s lemon chicken with stewed vegetables is to die for. Still, the two of them are usually working on such different schedules that they often barely see each other some days. Which explains why Sam doesn’t notice right away when it disappears. 

***

Sam wakes up one morning in late January and thinks to himself that the Shifter must have been extra quiet coming in that night because he didn’t get woken up for once. He does his best to return the favour and tiptoes around so that the Shifter can sleep in (it usually gets in late and then sleeps until after Sam’s left for classes.) It isn’t until he gets home in the afternoon that notices it’s absence at all. Still, his first thought isn’t that it ran off, but only that it must have had some errands and left early for work. It doesn’t even cross his mind to worry until he gets up the next morning, after another uninterrupted sleep, and realizes that he hasn’t seen the Shifter in over 24 hours. 

As soon as this dawns on him he goes into crisis mode, his mind caught between berating himself for not realizing something was wrong sooner and running through any and all possible scenarios that could explain it’s disappearance. He wonders vaguely if it could have been kidnapped again, but Gordon is safely behind bars and there isn’t anyone else who seems like a likely suspect. He’s forced to conclude, therefore, that it ran off on its own. He thinks frantically through every order he’s ever given it and realizes with rising horror, that at no point had he actually told it that it needed to stay with him. 

From the first, it had just followed him around, followed him to Stanford. Sam had just assumed it’s continued presence and hadn’t actually done anything to ensure it. He remembers one of his father’s standing orders that he’d chosen to leave out. “At all times behave as though you are Sam’s brother and my son, and you want to be with us.” Without that command in place there was nothing to stop it from simply wandering off into the middle of the night, and Sam (like a moron, he berates himself) hadn’t realized. He calms down slightly when he thinks of the orders that are in place. It can’t kill anyone and it can’t shift. If it could, it would be virtually impossible to find. As things are though he has a chance, not to mention a responsibility, to track it down. 

The first thing he does is call its cell, but just as he was expecting there’s no answer. He is, however, able to track the signal to at least the general location of his target, to get any closer her would need equipment that only the authorities have access to. The call bounces off a tower in downtown Milwaukee. 

“What the hell is it doing there?” Sam grumbles to himself as he browses for plane tickets. The Shifter took the Impala with it when he left and it’s a thirty-hour drive to Milwaukee, which means it can’t have been there all that long. Since Sam can be there in five hours by flying, he’s well on his way to making up for it’s head start. Now he just has to figure out how he’s going to find one monster in a city of more than half a million people. 

***

Sam spends two nights in a motel in Milwaukee worrying about how he’s going to find his wayward charge and angsting about all of the school he’s missing. It’s on the morning of the third day that he casually picks up a newspaper in a diner and also picks up his first lead. Two days earlier a jewelry store was robbed by one of its most trusted employees. When the police tracked the culprit to her home, they found her dead, apparently by her own hand, and the jewelry missing. The cops are at a loss as to a possible motive but Sam is looking at it from a different perspective and to him, it sounds like the work of a shapeshifter. 

It couldn’t be his shapeshifter though could it? The Shifter has firm orders not to either change forms or kill anyone and this crime would have required both. The only way it would be possible is if it’s somehow finally found a way out of whatever spell its been under all these years. Sam swallows nervously. If that’s the case, then stopping it might entail more lethality than he had initially planned on. Sam doesn’t want to do it but he will if he has to. 

He’s surprised at his relief when he puts in the research and a few hours later is sure that the Shifter didn’t do it. There was another incident just over a month ago at Milwaukee National Trust. Exact same story: long term employee robs the place then goes home and kills himself, and when all this took place his Shifter was safely in California watching Christmas specials. Which means that there must be another shapeshifter in town, and if his Shifter (Sam starts calling it Dean in his head for simplicity) found out about it than maybe that’s why it came here. If he wants to find Dean, maybe he has to start by finding this other guy. 

***

Sam’s research leads him to Ronald Reznik, the former night-watchman for the National Trust and potential witness. So, he dusts off his fed suit and knocks on the man’s door. He’s answered by an overweight man with curly hair who demands to see his badge but eventually lets him in. 

“None of the cops ever called me back” he explains to Sam, “not after I told them what was really going on. They all thought I was crazy. First off, you should know that Juan Morales never robbed the Milwaukee National Trust, that I guarantee. Me and Juan were friends; we used to play cards together. That thing in the bank that night wasn’t him. It had his face, every detail was perfect, but it wasn’t him. The same thing happened a few days ago at this jewelry store, but the cops still won’t see it” Ron tells him, growing more excited. “Both crimes were pulled by the same thing.”

“And what’s that Mr. Reznick?” Sam asks. 

“Something that’s part man, part machine. Like a Terminator, but the kind that can change itself.”

“Like in T2?” Sam asks disdainfully. 

“Yes, exactly! Like some kind of Mandroid.”

“A Mandroid?” Sam prompts him, trying to sound bored. “And what makes you say that?”

“I saw it on the security tapes. It’s eyes were glowing. It has laser eyes.”

Sam purses his lips. Reflective eyes confirms shapeshifter. One that’s been here for a while and has been killing people. 

“This thing killed my friend and it’s still out there” Ron tells him. If the law won’t hunt it down, then I’ll do it myself. Now listen,” he gestures to a map taped to the wall, “these robberies are grouped together, so I figure the Mandroid is holed up somewhere around here, underground maybe.”

“Ok” says Sam keeping his face carefully neutral, “I want you to listen very carefully, because what I’m about to tell you is the truth. There’s no such thing as Mandroids. There’s nothing evil or inhuman going on out there. I know you don’t want to hear this, but your friend did rob that bank.”

Ron’s face falls in disappointment as Sam talks and when he finishes it turns to anger. “Get out of my house!” he yells. 

Sure, Sam feels some guilt about lying to Ron, even if he doesn’t know it, Ron helped him a lot, but lying happens to be the best way to keep everyone safe. Sam does a little more digging that night and finds the connection between the locations that Ron was guessing at. Each of the locations is along the same sewer lane and so is one more place: The City Bank of Milwaukee. Sam would bet anything that that’s the shapeshifter’s next target.


	9. Chapter 9

With a little fast talking and a stolen security uniform, Sam manages to con his way into the camera room at City Bank and sets himself up for a tedious few hours of combing through surveillance footage. He figures that if the shapeshifter really is planning on robbing the place, he’ll probably show up to case the joint first. All Sam has to do is wait for it to make an appearance and it’s eyes will be caught on camera and give it away. Then he’ll know who it is and he’ll be able to question it about Dean before he gets rid of it. 

It’s getting near closing time at the bank and Sam is starting to wonder if he would be better off just searching the sewers when he finally gets a hit. Even though his brain is half asleep by that point, the flare in the eyes of the man who walked into the bank stands out like sore thumb. It’s Dean. It’s in it’s normal civilian clothes rather than any kind of fake uniform, but it still walks in like he owns the place. Sam wonders again if maybe it could be working with the other shapeshifter. Afterall, it did say that Sam’s Dad had caught it before after it tried to steal from a bank. 

Sam jumps out of his chair and runs to confront Dean, not seeing the man who came in a few steps behind it and is now wrapping a chain around the inner knobs of all the doors, making sure that no one can get out. 

As Sam makes his way back downstairs, he hears two guns shots fired in quick succession, immediately followed by surprised screaming from the people in the lobby. “Everybody on the floor now!” Ron yells as Sam races around the corner. Tellers and customers scurry, some trying to run, but a few more shots directed into the air soon has everyone lying face down on the tile, Dean included. 

Sam steps forwards with his hands in the air. “Hey” he says getting Ron’s attention. 

Ron swings around and points his rifle at Sam’s chest. “What?” he questions, clearly wondering why the FBI agent he talked to last night is now a security guard. “You ain’t FBI are you?” he deduces. “Who are you? Are you working for the Mandroids?”

“I’m not working for the Mandroids” Sam insists. “Look, I know you don’t want to hurt anybody” Sam tries to reason with him, pointedly not looking at where Dean is silently lying next to several other hostages.   
“I told you!” yells Ron, “if nobody else is going to stop this thing then I’ve got to do it myself.”

“And I believe you” says Sam earnestly, “that’s why I’m here. I couldn’t tell you before, but I am FBI. I work for a special branch that takes care of things like this. I can help you Ron.”

“Like I’m going to listen to you.”

“Then keep me as a hostage, but I can still help.” Sam pulls out his cell phone, slowly so Ron won’t think it’s a weapon. “We can check their eyes with the camera on here, find out who it is.”

“Slide it over” says Ron, “I’m checking yours first.” Sam does and Ron flips it open and points it in his direction. After a moment, Ron seems to relax slightly and Sam knows that he’s passed the test. “Okay, we’ll do it your way then” says Ron as he turns back to the rest of his prisoners. “Everybody form a line” he commands, waving the rifle at them. They obey and Sam watches as Dean jostles for a position near the back. 

Sam takes a deep breath. What he’s about to do next is a gamble but he can’t see anyway around it. If Ron catches Dean, he’ll shoot him, and when that doesn’t work, who knows what he’ll do. As much as Sam doesn’t trust Dean right now, he still wants it alive to at least get some answers out of it. 

“Ron, I have to tell you one more thing” Sam says as calmly as he can.

“What?”

“I have a partner.”

“A partner?” Ron asks. 

“Yeah, and he’s well, he’s sort of one of them.” 

“What the fuck?” Ron points the rifle at Sam again. “You are working for them!” he accuses. 

“No” Sam persists, “he works for me. Look, you said these things are like Terminators, right?”

“Yeah?” Ron says, looking at Sam like he’s the crazy one now. 

“Well, there are good Mandroids, just like there are good Terminators.”

“So, he’s like Arnie?” Ron asks. 

“That’s right.” Sam turns to the anxiously waiting line up. “Dean, come here” he commands. 

Dean steps out of line with obvious reluctance and approaches them. As soon as he gets close enough, Ron holds up the phone to his face checking his eyes. “Holy shit he’s got laser eyes” Ron says breathlessly and grips his rifle tighter. 

“It’s okay” says Sam. “Dean, tell him that you’re a good Mandroid.”

“I’m a good Mandroid” Dean says, repeating Sam’s words robotically and probably seething inside.

“Fine then” says Ron, gathering himself, “we can lock him in the vault while we check everyone else.”

Sam doesn’t particularly trust Dean right now either and is fine with this suggestion, but Dean is understandably less so. “You can’t do that” it says. 

“And why not?” Ron asks. 

“Because you can’t kill it with that gun you got there. I’m the only one who can stop it.”

Ron looks at Sam for confirmation and Sam thinks about it. It’s true that Ron’s rifle, without the benefit of silver bullets won’t be much good and Sam himself didn’t come armed for fear of tipping off security. Perhaps Dean means that he is appropriately armed. Sam looks at Dean and, knowing that it’ll be forced to be truthful, confirms with it, “you can kill it?”

“I can kill it” Dean says nodding. 

“He’s right, we need him” Sam says to Ron. He could make Dean give up whatever weapon it is he’s carrying, but that might be tipping their hand a little too much to Ron who clearly doesn’t trust either of them. If he knows it’s only a matter of having the right ammunition, then he’ll probably want to take on the shapeshifter himself and no doubt get killed doing it. 

“Fine” Ron says caving but clearly not happy about it. “You two go stand over there” he gestures with his rifle to a spot just to the left of the anxiously waiting lineup. “I’ll let you know when I find it.” 

Ron starts in on the task of checking each person in the bank. Trying to hold the cell phone while covering multiple groups with the rifle, is clearly awkward but he still gets through the first few people without incident. Then, without warning, the lights go out all at once. A few people scream from the suddenness of it as the bank is plunged into darkness. Unfortunately, someone decides to take advantage of the moment and Ron’s clumsy handling of his weapon to play hero. 

As a random citizen moves out of line and lunges towards Ron, trying to knock the gun from his hands. Ron panics and a shot rings out. As the screaming crescendos and then rapidly ends, Sam makes his way over to where a man in a suit is bleeding onto the tiles. 

“I didn’t mean to” Ron murmurs from behind him. 

“He’s not dead” Sam says feeling for a pulse before moving his hand to putt pressure on the source of the bleeding. “You got him in the shoulder. He’s going to need a doctor fast though.” 

Its then that the phone on the reception desk starts ringing. With Ronald freaking out and Sam occupied, Dean walks over to answer it. He picks it up but wisely doesn’t speak. “It’s the police” he says after a few moments.   
“They’re the one’s who cut the power and they want to know what your demands are.”

“Demands?” Ron asks, confused, then walks over to take the phone himself. “I don’t have any demands” he tells whoever it is. “I’m not a bank robber.”

“Tell them we need an ambulance” Sam yells at him. 

“That’s right” Ron agrees into the phone. “I demand you get us an ambulance.” There’s a pause. “No, not for us to escape in, for the guy I just shot – I mean – who got shot. We’ll send him out to you.” Another pause, “no, I’m working alone. I didn’t mean to say us.” Ron is gesticulating wildly at this point and moving about as he speaks. Before Sam can warn him, he steps in front of one of the bank’s large glass windows. Unlike a few minutes earlier when the civilian was shot only moments earlier, this time there’s barely any sound as a deceptively small hole suddenly appears in Ron’s chest and he falls to the ground. 

Dean makes a dive for Ron’s rifle and brandishes it at the crowd. “Everybody stay!” he yells, but it’s too late. The semi-orderly lineup vanishes as all of their suspects run off, and the shapeshifter with them. 

Sam and Dean and the bleeding civilian are the only one’s left alive in the lobby now and they have no time for mourning. “We’ve got to get him out” Sam says with his hands still pressed to the civilian’s bullet wound. 

“I know” Dean sighs heavily. 

“I can take him. Just – please – can I change first?”

“What?” Sam asks, not understanding. 

“Someone’s got to walk him out” Dean points out, “and whoever does it will end up with their face on national television. So, just let me change into someone else first.”

“We don’t have time” Sam argues. 

“It’ll take me under ten minutes. Please Sam, if I go out there looking like this, then I’ll never be able to use this body again.”

“Fine” Sam concedes, “but you have to do it here. There’s more than one shapeshifter in this building and if you slink off to the bathrooms, I’ll have no way of knowing its actually you that comes back.”

Dean nods grimly, “fine”, it says and steps behind a desk to get as much privacy as it can. 

“You have permission to shift” Sam says. 

Dean sinks down behind the desk, unbuttoning it’s shirt as it goes and Sam keeps his eyes on where it disappeared. The last thing he needs is to have two shapeshifters running loose and not being sure of which one of them to shoot. He can’t see much but the wet ripping sounds coming from behind the desk make him glad of it. After about six minutes, a figure emerges, wearing Dean’s clothes. 

“Why do you look like Stephen Colbert?” Sam asks. 

“His show is on tonight” it replies. “It’s always best to turn into a celebrity if you’re going to commit a crime. They usually have alibis.”

Sam hums to himself, considering the logic.

Dean walks over to pick up the still unconscious man. 

“Careful with the wound” Sam instructs, “and once you’ve got him out there come straight back.”

“Got it” Dean agrees, before pulling out his handgun and giving it to Sam. “I’ve got the rifle, you take this.” Then he starts towards the door, using his unnatural strength to carry the guy with one arm and keeping the rifle on him with the other. 

Sam checks the handgun while it’s gone and finds it fully loaded with silver bullets, so Dean must have come here to hunt afterall. Why this hunt, though, why now? Sam knows they’ll be having a long conversation as soon as they’re out of this mess.


	10. Chapter 10

“So, what’s the game plan, boss?” Dean asks, once the injured civilian has been safely handed off to the paramedics. 

Sam tries his best not to be distracted by the fact that Dean still looks like Stephen Colbert. “We’ll take it floor by floor I guess.”

“Splitting up would be faster” it suggests. 

“I told you, I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

“Fine.” It sets it’s rifle against it’s (Stephen Colbert’s) shoulder and leads the way into the recesses of the bank. 

***

Their progress is slow. Every time they come across a hiding civilian, they have to walk them back to the vault after checking their eyes. Locking everyone in might take longer, but it keeps them safe from the shapeshifter and it stops Sam and Dean from having to check people more than once. Fortunately, Dean seems to be good at finding people who are trying to hide and Sam figures that he must be using super-hearing or something. 

“So, are you sure that Colbert isn’t going to get in any trouble for this?” Sam asks as they walk along. 

“No, the police are questioning him now, but he’s got multiple solid alibis. He’ll be fine.”

“How can you know that?” Sam asks. 

Dean taps the side of his head. “Psychic connection, remember? It happens whenever I copy a living human.”

“Right” says Sam, mentally shuddering at the thought of someone invading his mind like that. 

They’re almost done with the first floor when Sam nearly slips in a flesh coloured gelatinous mess. Sam swears as he struggles to maintain his footing. “What the Hell is that?” 

“It’s skin” Dean says, looking almost shy. “That’s what shapeshifter skin looks like after I’ts been shed.”

“Dude, that is gross” says Sam. 

“After it’s shed, it becomes water soluble” Dean defends. “That’s why I usually shift in the shower. No mess that way.”

“This means we’ve got it on the defensive” Sam says. “It knows that we’re coming for it.”

“Yeah” Dean agrees, not meeting his eyes. 

***

Sam is rounding a corner on the second floor when he sees a flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye. He turns and points his handgun at a terrified looking blonde woman with a bank employee badge.   
“Please don’t kill me” she begs, scrambling backwards and Sam has to tamp down his urge to comfort her. 

“We’re not going to hurt you” he says, hearing Dean come up behind him, “we just have to check something. 

He takes one hand off his gun and reaches for his cell phone. Faster than any human the blonde woman suddenly rushes forward and he finds himself knocked off balance, with his gun flying out of his hand. Before he even has time to fully process what’s happening, Sam is facing outwards, with the woman holding his own gun against his head from behind him. Her other arm is wrapped around his chest, holding him in place and even though she’s half his size, her grip feels like iron. Sam thinks to himself that Dean must have been seriously holding back whenever they wrestled as kids. 

Right now, Dean’s got his rifle focused on where the other shapeshifter’s head peeks out from behind Sam’s shoulder. Unfortunately, unlike the handgun currently resting against his temple, that rifle isn’t loaded with silver. Which means, essentially, that they’re screwed. 

“Drop the gun!” the blonde shapeshifter yells at his brother. 

Dean slowly raises its hands in the air, letting the rifle swing from its strap against its chest. “Easy there. Like he said, we aren’t here to hurt you.”

“Like Hell you aren’t” the shapeshifter hisses. 

“No, really” Dean insists. “We aren’t. The guns are only for show, to keep the humans out of our hair. We’re just here to talk.” 

“What do you mean?” the other shapeshifter asks and Sam would like to know the same thing.

“We’re like you” Dean answers, “shapeshifters.” Then Dean does something with his eyes, like a blink, but the eyelids he uses to do it are translucent and come in from the sides instead of top to bottom. “Or did you think you were really being stalked through the bank by a popular talk show host?”

Sam can feel the shapeshifter behind him trembling, but it’s grip is still strong enough that he doesn’t dare try anything.

“You’re really?” the shapeshifter asks, “I’ve never . . .” it trails off. 

“You’ve never met another before” Dean finishes for it. “I know. We’re rare. That’s why when I saw what you were doing in the news, I had to come find you.”

Sam is really starting to freak out now. He can’t tell what’s happening here and he hates it. Is Dean trying to bluff the other shifter? Or was this the plan all along? Dean is under orders not to hurt Sam, but this other one isn’t. Maybe Dean’s strategy is to get it to kill Sam instead.

“What do you want?” the enemy shapeshifter demands.

“I want you to tell me what you remember from your childhood” Dean answers.

“What?” it asks. “Why would you want to know that?”

“I’ve got this little project, see. I’m trying to figure out where we come from.” 

“Where we come from?”

“Yeah, because I remember my mom, and she was human. Hell, I thought I was human until I was about twelve. So, what about you? Got parents?”

Sam can’t see the other shapeshifter’s expression from where it stands behind him but he can hear the hitch in it’s voice when it answers. “I – I remember my mom too.”

“And your Dad?” Dean prompts. 

“No Dad” it answers. “Well, I guess technically, I had a Dad, but Mom told me that she only met him the one time. She was a teenager when she got pregnant. Total accident. She always said I ruined her life, but she kept me anyways until . . .”

“Until she found out what you are” Dean guesses. 

Sam can feel the bob of the enemy shapeshifter’s head where its pressed up against his shoulder as it nods in confirmation. “I was thirteen when it first happened. I just remember feeling this itch, you know?” Dean nods and it continues. “Then when I started to scratch, my skin came off and I just kept scratching and scratching. I must have screamed at some point because Mom came running in and caught me part way through. After that she got rid of me real fast. But what can you expect? She was only human.”

Dean smiles wryly, “Yeah, humans can really suck sometimes” it agrees. As it talks, Dean settles its hands by its side where the rifle is still hanging. Sam doesn’t even see Dean move and for a moment when he hears the shot, he thinks he must be dead. Instead, he feels the arm holding him go slack as the enemy shapeshifter falls to the ground with a hole between its eyes. Guided by his training, Sam goes for the fallen handgun but as he picks it up, he’s not sure which shapeshifter he should be aiming it at. 

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Dean asks him. “Finish it off.”

Sam fires a round of pure silver straight into the creature’s heart. That ought to do it. He turns back to Dean. “So, are you finally going to tell me what this is all about?”

“Later” Dean promises. “Right now, we’ve got to get out of here before police get impatient and decide to break in, hostages be damned.” Almost as soon as it’s said it, there’s a crash from the floor below them as someone breaks through the glass at the front of the bank. “Speak of the devil” Dean mutters. 

***

They have to act fast after that. Figuring the police will be looking for Stephen Colbert, Dean shifts back into it’s usual form. Then they manage to jump two members of the strike team and steal their clothes. Sam feels sort of bad when they leave the two men tied up in their underwear, but really, it’s basically their own fault for being so terrible at their jobs. Dean leads them to the parking garage where it left the Impala and they get out of town as fast as they can. 

“Take us back to Palo Alto” Sam orders once they get onto the highway. 

Dean flashes him a look, “where else would I take us?”

“I don’t know. Why don’t you tell me, since you seem to think it’s okay to just take off wherever and whenever you like and fuck my life up when you do it. I’ve missed over a week’s worth of lectures. I’m supposed to be writing a criminology midterm right now. I might fail the class!”

“No one asked you to come after me” Dean answers.

“That’s a stupid argument and you know it. Not come after you? You could have been dead or evil or something! So, you better give me an explanation for all of this right now.”

Dean glares at the road ahead of them. “I’m a hunter, Sam. It’s what I do. I’ve been sitting around for months, playing by your rules, but that doesn’t mean that I stopped being a hunter. I can’t just turn off that part of my brain. I find cases even when I’m not looking for them, just by watching the news. That’s how I heard about what was happening in Milwaukee.”

“Oh, really? And why now Dean? What exactly made this case so special?”

“You know what.”

“Lay it out for me” Sam demands. 

“It’s exactly like I told it. I wanted to know if it was the same for all of us. I don’t even know where I come from Sam. I saw an opportunity to get some information, maybe do a bit of good at the same time, and I took it.”

“Goddamn it Dean. I can’t believe I was almost starting to trust you.” Sam rubs at his forehead. “Okay, here goes, new orders. Do not shift forms without permission. I’m not going to forget that one again. And here’s the new one: don’t leave Palo Alto unless I leave Palo Alto!”

Dean grimaces but says nothing. In fact, from there on, the drive home is almost entirely silent.


	11. Chapter 11

When Sam wakes up, the first thing he’s aware of is a throbbing headache. The second is that he’s not at home, he’s in some crappy motel just like the hundreds of others he’s spent half his life in. The third is that he’s covered in blood. He does a quick self inspection. The only cuts he has are on his knuckles, which means that the concerningly large dried blood stain on the front of his shirt didn’t come from him. Whose blood is it? He has no idea. In fact, as he tries to search back in his memories, he’s coming up with more and more blanks. The last thing he remembers is walking home from class, he has no idea how long ago. 

A quick peak out the window gives him the name of the motel he’s in but not much other information. The dried blood clings unpleasantly to his skin, but however he got here, he doesn’t seem to have brough anything with him, which means he’s going to have to wait to get a change of clothes. With his front covered in blood, he can’t really go anywhere without one. Even a quick trip down to the front desk could potentially result in a call to the police and going shirtless might be equally as suspicious. He pats down his pockets and is relieved to find that he at least has his cell phone with him. It’s been turned off, but it starts up again easily enough. Sam scrolls through his contacts, wishing there were more of them, before hitting the call button. 

“Sam?” the voice on the other end asks anxiously. 

“Dean. I need your help.”

***

It takes Dean about four hours to arrive and Sam spends that time roaming about the room wildly, ostensibly to look for clues, but really in a vain attempt to distract himself from his internal panic. Finally, he hears a knock on the door and goes to answer it.

“What the Hell are you doing in Colorado?” Dean asks before Sam can get a word in. 

“We’re in Colorado?”

Dean looks at him like he’s insane, which, given the circumstances is probably fair. “Sam, what happened to you? I’ve been looking for you for over a week.”

“A week?” Sam echoes. “I just woke up here, like this” he gestures at his shirt, “and I have no idea what happened.”

“Any of it your blood?” Dean asks. 

“I don’t think so. Dean, what if I hurt someone?”

“We don’t know anything yet Sam. We just need to stay calm and retrace your steps. Treat it like any other case.”

Sam grimaces as he pulls a fresh shirt over his head. This isn’t just any other case and they both know it. 

***

Talking to the man at the front desk doesn’t reveal any clues so the two of them head out to the parking lot. 

“Anything feel familiar?” Dean asks. 

“Not really” Sam says, but then catches sight of something. “Wait! That car” he gestures to a blue beetle across the lot. 

“This one?” Dean says strolling over to the vehicle in question. It peers into the car, then back at Sam. “There’s blood on the front seat.”

Sam walks over and sees that it’s right. The front seat of the beetle looks disturbingly like a potential murder scene. It looks even worse when he spies the Bowie knife sitting on the back seat also covered in blood. “Do you think I used that on someone?” he asks, trying to keep his voice steady. 

Dean doesn’t answer him immediately, it’s too busy concentrating on breaking into the car. When the door clicks open, he reaches over to the centre console and picks up a pack of cigarettes. “Only if you started smoking menthols.”

“Anything else in there?” Sam asks. 

“Yep. There’s a gas receipt from a few towns over, so at least now we know where to head next.”

***

“So, are you getting any goosebumps yet?” Dean asks as they pull into the gas station. “Deja vu vibes?” Sam shakes his head. “Well maybe someone inside will remember you.”

Someone does. The guy at the counter takes one look at Sam and his eyes get big. “You! Get out of here. Now, or I’ll call the cops.”

“Are you talking to him?” Dean asks, pointing at Sam with its thumb. 

“Yeah, I’m talking to him. The jerk was in here yesterday, stinking drunk, grabbed a forty from the fridge and just started chugging. Then when I yell at him, he almost nails me in the head with the bottle.”

“I’m really sorry” Sam tries to apologize. 

“Don’t care, I just want you gone” with that the cashier picks up the phone, presumably to make good on his threat to call the police. 

“Okay, okay, he’s going” Dean says, pushing Sam towards the door. 

“What?” Sam asks. 

“Sam go wait in the car.”

Sam thinks seriously about protesting but decides better. The bell on the door jingles as he heads out. Five minutes later, Dean joins him. 

“He says you went north” it informs him. 

“Then I guess we head north” Sam says. 

**

They’ve been driving for about twenty minuets when Sam gets a sudden flash of, not quite memory, more like intuition. 

“Turn down there” he directs Dean, who grumbles inaudibly, probably concerned about taking the Impala down the rough gravel road. The house at the end of the road isn’t any more inviting, with a fancy security system and imposing dark windows. When they get a little closer, they see that one of those windows has been broken. Taking a cue from whoever was there before, they break in. 

The inside of the house is a mess of broken glass and destruction. The furniture hasn’t just been overturned, it’s been destroyed, and lying in the middle of it all is the body of middle-aged man with his throat slit open. 

“Dean, I must have done this” Sam says, looking at the corpse and feeling his eyes get moist. 

“We don’t know that for sure.”

“What else do you need?” Sam asks. “How else can you explain all of this? Gordon was right about me; I need to be put down!”

“We don’t know anything Sam! Even if you did this, that doesn’t mean that you didn’t have a reason. Maybe he deserved it.”

Sam shakes his head, not wanting to listen to anyone try to make excuses for him. Then, something catches his eye. Right before the man died, he was trying to do something; his bloody handprints are still all over the wall, and when Sam presses on that wall, a hidden compartment pops open. 

“Holy shit” says Dean looking at the array of weaponry and amulets that’s just been revealed. “This guy was a hunter.”

“I killed a hunter” Sam accuses himself. 

“Let’s find out” Dean gestures to the corner of the room, where a camera blinks down at them from the ceiling. 

A few minutes later and they’ve got themselves into the homeowner’s home security system and are watching Sam beat up the now deceased man. Neither one of them can deny that it’s definitely Sam on screen, he even looked directly into the camera at one point, giving a full view of his face without any retinal flare. When the moment of the murder comes, Sam slumps down in his seat, not wanting to move, not even wanting anyone to so much as look at him. Dean however watches grimly to the end then practically runs around the room, frantically wiping things down and obliterating evidence. 

“Sam, get going” Dean barks at him. “You’ve got to erase that recording so we can get out of here.”

“I killed him” Sam mumbles. 

“Sam, whoever this guy was, he was a hunter, which means that over hunters are going to come looking for him. We’ve got to cover our tracks.”

“His name was Steve Wandell” says Sam, “it says so this envelope”, he gestures to an opened letter sitting on the desk in front of him. 

Dean responds to this by wrenching the computer off the desk, throwing it to the floor, and stomping on it several times. It throws a rag at Sam. “Wipe your prints. Then we go.”

Sam numbly does as he’s told. When he exits the house, he finds Dean leaning against the Impala waiting for him. For a brief moment Sam thinks it looks like it’s up to something, but then decides he must have imagined it. He gets in the passenger seat and Dean starts to drive. 

***

“So, what now?” Sam asks once they’re well away from the scene of his crime. 

“Now we get as far away as possible before someone shows up looking for the guy” Dean answers. 

“That’s it? Dean, I killed someone!” Sam protests. 

“It wasn’t you” Dean insists. 

Sam looks at him sideways. “Really” he asks sarcastically.

“Okay, so it was you, but it wasn’t you.”

“Maybe it was more me than you think.”

“How’s that?” Dean asks. 

“I just mean that ever since this whole mess with the demon first started, I’ve been having these feelings. Rage. Hatred.”

“Sam, your whole life went to shit. It’s normal for you to be angry.”

“But I feel like it’s getting worse. There’s this bubbling lava inside me and I can’t control it. I’ve been taking it out on people, on you, and now it’s finally spilled over and a hunter is dead.”

“You’re not a bad person Sam.” 

“Maybe not at first, but the yellow-eyed demon has plans for me and he’s turned people into killers before.”

“No one can control you, but you” Dean tells him unironically. 

“It doesn’t feel like that. It feels like, no matter what I do, slowly but surely, I’m becoming something else. Maybe it’s who I’m meant to be.”

“I can’t believe I’m hearing this” Dean says, glaring at the road ahead.

“Dean, the day might come when I need to be stopped, and you might be the only one around to stop me.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Dean demands, truly angry now. “I’m not going to stop you.”

“I could order you to” Sam says, just now thinking of it but already liking the idea. He ignores the look of panic on Dean’s face and plows ahead. “Dean, if there ever comes a time when I go full on evil, then kill me.”

Dean slams on the brakes and the Impala screams to a halt in the center of the road. “You take that back right now!” Dean practically screams at him. 

“No” Sam says, remaining resolute. 

“You can’t ask me to do that” Dean pleads. “Sammy please.”

“I’m sorry Dean. I hope it won’t come to that, but if it does, I need you to take care of it. I don’t want to hurt anyone else.”

Dean starts the car up again but only to move it off to the side of the road. “You won’t, Sam.”

“Yes, I will” Sam murmurs, looking up from where his eyes have been fixed in his lap, “I’ll hurt you.” Sam takes a hold of the gun at his back and fires once directly into Dean Winchester’s heart. Finally allowing himself to smile, he savours the expression of shock on the hunter’s face as he dies. Then, Sam opens the far side car door and pushes the body out onto the side of the road. He slides over and takes the driver’s seat for himself. If he drives fast, he should make South Dakota by morning.


	12. Chapter 12

The thing inside Sam walks to up to Bobby’s house and knocks on the door like it’s an old friend, and it’s greeted like one too. 

“So, what brings you here?” Bobby asks as they make their way into the living room. 

“I was working a job near here and I thought I’d drop by” the demon answers, casually. 

“And where’s Dean?” Bobby asks. 

“Holed up somewhere with girl and a twelve-pack” it says, trying not to grin as it remembers finally getting revenge by killing the human that exorcised it last year and then murdered it’s father. 

“Well, it’s good to see you” Bobby says, holding out a beer. 

They clink bottles and the demon takes a long pull, anticipating the cool taste of alcohol, which is second only to blood, in it’s opinion. What it gets instead feels like acid in Sam’s mouth. “What did you do?” it sputters as Bobby continues to regard it casually. 

“A little holy water in the beer. Sam never would have noticed, but then, you’re not Sam, are you?” 

The demon is on its knees by now, still in agony from the poison that it swallowed to quickly to spit out. A quick blow to the head from Bobby, puts it temporarily out of it’s misery.

***

The demon inside Sam wakes up an unknown amount of time later to find itself tied to a chair with the Key of Solomon painted on the ceiling above it. Bobby sees it stir from his guard post across the room and glares at it grimly. 

“How did you know?” the demon asked. 

“Got a call from Dean.”

“Dean?” the demon questions, not understanding. 

Bobby’s glare deepens. “He says that you knocked him out and left him on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere. If you weren’t such an idjit you might have thought to take his cell phone too. He gave me a call soon as he woke up, which means I had plenty of time to get ready” the old man gestures to the devil’s trap.

“But that doesn’t make sense! He couldn’t . . .”

Bobby ignores it and begins to chant. “Exorcisamus te omnis immundus spiritus, omnis immundus satanica potestas, omnis incursion . . .”

The demon throws its head back with laughter as the old man continues his chanting. “You’re not getting rid or me that easily.”

The old hunter is shrewd for a human. As soon as he realizes his usual parlour tricks aren’t working, he gazes at Sam sharply, his eyes homing in on the binding lock burned onto Sam’s right arm. 

“Damn it” the old hunter mutters to himself, apparently recognising what this means. As long as the link remains on the body of the host, the demon isn’t going anywhere. 

“That’s right” the demon mocks him, “none of you can stop any of this. You monkeys think this is over because you got lucky and managed to kill my father? It hasn’t even begun.”

“What hasn’t even begun?” Bobby asks warily. 

“The war. It’s almost here. The soldiers are gathering and once she finishes drawing them to her, the earth will be overrun.”

“Who is ‘she’?” Bobby asks. 

“You’ll never stand a chance” the demon tells him, shaking Sam’s head. 

“Against what?” Bobby continues his line of questioning. 

The demon laughs at him again, refusing to answer. 

“Well, if that’s all you’ve got to say” Bobby pulls a switchblade out of his jeans pocket and flicks it open. He presses the blade down against meat of Sam’s arm and scores out the binding link. “Sorry Sam” he mutters as he works. When he looks back up again, the demon isn’t laughing anymore. 

“Now” says Bobby. “Let’s try that again shall we? Exorcisamus te omnis immundus spiritus . . .”

***

When Sam wakes up, he finds himself lying on spread out on the couch in Bobby’s living room with his arms folded on his chest like he’s a corpse laid out for one last viewing. He sits up and is instantly set on by a throbbing headache and a rush of nausea. 

“Bobby?” he asks blearily, spotting the older hunter sitting in the chair across from him. 

“You’re alright Sam” Bobby assures him. 

“What happened? I feel like I got kicked in the head by a horse.”

“No horse, just my boot. Sorry about that.” Sam groans and closes his eyes. “How much do you remember?” Bobby asks him. 

“Bits and pieces. I was possessed, wasn’t I?” Bobby nods in confirmation and Sam tries to force his pounding head to piece things together. “At first I think it was keeping me all the way under and then for some reason it let me out again. I don’t know why, maybe it was just playing with us, it forced me to hurt Dean. After that, I knew what it was doing, I just couldn’t stop it.”

“Is Dean okay?” Bobby asks. 

“I think so, just knocked him out and left him in the middle of nowhere” Sam says trying to cover. Dean should be okay, he thinks, the gun wasn’t loaded with silver and he managed to call Bobby afterward. 

Bobby’s face gets even sterner, “Sam, did you hear the part where it talked about some kind of war?”

“Yes.”

“Any idea what it meant?” Bobby asked. 

“No” Sam answers. 

Bobby sighs heavily, “are you idjit Winchesters ever not in some kind of trouble?”

“Not that I can recall, no.”

“One more thing Sam, I got a call from a contact a few minutes ago about a hunter found dead in   
Colorado.” Bobby looks at him pointedly, “you ever hear of a Steve Wandell?”

“No?” Sam says, making it sound more like a question than an answer. 

“Good” nods Bobby, “keep it that way. Oh, and Sam,” Bobby throws something in Sam’s direction and he catches it by reflex, “that there is an anti-possession charm. Don’t let this happen again.”

***

Apparently, Dean has somehow managed to hitchhike itself to a gas station and con the attendant into giving it free coffee. When Sam arrives to pick it up, he finds it in the midst of an animated conversation about fuel grades and classic engines with the gas station attendant and another customer, however it drops its casual demeanor as soon as it sees Sam. 

“Christo” Dean says, starring Sam in the eyes. 

“Just me” Sam says sheepishly and Dean is visibly relieved. 

“Thank goodness” it mutters and ditches it’s new friends to walk back to the Impala. “I’m sorry Sam, I should have realized what was going on sooner, and then when I did, I couldn’t even help. I was afraid if I tried to come after you, it would, I don’t know, order me to kill Bobby or something.” 

“You’re sorry? I’m the one who shot you” Sam protests. 

“It wasn’t you” Dean reassures him. “How come it didn’t know about me anyway? If it was in your brain is should have known it couldn’t kill me with a regular bullet.”

“I don’t know. Maybe it wasn’t digging deep enough or something; it thought it knew us well enough already.”

“It knew us?” 

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure that was the same demon that was possessing Meg Masters last year.”

“Son of a bitch! Next time we see her I swear I’m going to use the Colt’s last bullet to shoot her dead.” 

They both get into the car and Dean starts to talk. “By the way, I’m not sure how aware you were for this part, but it ordered me to kill you if you ever go dark side, so you know, you should probably rescind that.”

Sam looks towards the driver’s seat and sees just how forced Dean’s nonchalance really is. “Dean, that wasn’t the demon that gave that order. It was me.”

“Sammy please” it says, almost pathetically. 

“If you’re so convinced that it will never happen, then it shouldn’t be a problem, right?”


	13. Chapter 13

Only a day after being possessed by a demon, Sam is back in classes. Dean had wanted him to take a day off, but he can’t afford to miss any more time. He’s starting to feel like he’s a yo-yo; just when he thinks he’s got the swing of his normal life, he gets pulled back into his hunting life. The constant jumping back and forth is wreaking havoc on his psyche. He just feels like he’s starting to get used to being Student-Sam again and then he’s forced to be Hunter-Sam again. He doesn’t feel like he knows what he’s doing half the time, but he does at least know what the traditional Winchester remedy to this problem would be: alcohol. 

Sam ducks into a bar on his way back from class. Even though it’s close to where he’s living, he’s never been here before, and looking around he can see why. This isn’t the grotty, small-town pool hall that Dad would have loved, this place leans more in the direction of trendy student bar. Just the kind of place Brady liked to drag him to after a long day of classes when they were both in first year. 

He doesn’t intend to do more than have a single drink and unwind a little before heading home, but when he gets up to the bar, he almost does a double take. Dean is standing behind the counter, chatting to a college girl, and mixing up some kind of pink concoction that it probably wouldn’t be caught dead drinking itself. Sam briefly considers making a strategic retreat, but it’s too late, he’s been noticed. Dean nods at him from across the bar and Sam slips sheepishly onto a stool. 

A few moments later, Dean deposits a whiskey in front of him with a thunk. “Here you go” it says. 

“I was just going to get a beer” Sam protests. 

“This is better” Dean informs him. “So, what brings you in here Sammy? I haven’t seen you have any fun in ages.”

“Just needed to relax.”

“Mmm hmm” Dean hums encouragingly. “Want to talk about it?”

Sam laughs, “what have you been taking psychiatry or something?”

“I’m a bartender. It’s my job to listen to people’s problems.”

“Oh yeah? Is that what you were doing with that girl over there?” Sam asks sarcastically. 

“No, Sam. That was called flirting. It gets you better tips and if you’re me, it gets you girl’s phone numbers. You should try it sometime; it might help with the whole relaxing thing.”

Sam glares at it balefully. “I don’t think that’s going to fix any of my problems.”

“And what problems are those?” Dean asks. 

“I don’t know who I am” Sam said, taking a sip of his drink. “I wanted to be a student and then a lawyer, but I’m also a hunter, and now maybe I’m some kind of psychic or cursed or something.”

“You’re not cursed, Sam” Dean tries to reassure him. “As for the rest of it, you don’t have to be only one thing you know. I’m a hunter and a shapeshifter, for now a bartender, and I’m your brother. You can be a psychic lawyer if that’s what you want.”

“Do you really believe that?” Sam asked it. “Do you actually think of me as your brother?”

“Of course, I do. I may be a few years older than you thought, but we still grew up together. Just because you know the truth about me now doesn’t mean that everything we did didn’t happen. That was still our lives. Remember that I can’t lie to you Sam. I’m not lying now. You are my brother.”

“You know, you’re a lot better a chick-flick moments now than you used to be” Sam points out, expecting it to get defensive.

Dean shrugs. “It’s a lot easier now that I don’t have to lie to you.”

Sam is still trying to figure out how to respond to everything that’s been said when Dean gets pulled away by a rowdy group of freshmen who are loudly demanding beer. Sam finishes his drink and leaves. 

***

Sam wakes up the next morning to muffled swearing and crashing. He staggers out of bed and into their tiny kitchen to find Dean rummaging violently through the cupboards. “What’s going on?” he asks. 

“The Colt is missing” it answers. 

“The Colt?”

“Yeah, you know the magical gun that can kill anything” says Dean sarcastically. 

“The gun you used to kill my father. I remember. What do you mean it’s missing?”

Dean looks at him sharply all of a sudden. “Do you remember where I told you I hid it?”

“You locked it in the far kitchen cupboard. Not the most secure system really.”

“Hey, I didn’t hear you offering up any better suggestions” Dean protests. 

“So why did someone take it?” Sam asks. 

“I don’t know, but I think I might know who did it.”

“Who?” 

Dean holds up the padlock that was formerly securing the cupboard. “This hasn’t been broken into, and you and I are the only two who knew where it was. I think it was the demon that was possessing you.”

Sam frowns, “I don’t remember that but there are still a lot of blank spaces. It could be” he muses. Then his brain starts to speed up and a new idea comes to him. “We never did figure out why it chose to possess me. We know it was killing hunters but it could have used anyone for that. Maybe this is what it was really after.”

“Shit” says Dean, “I should have thought to check on it sooner. Well, we know you didn’t have it on you in Colorado so it must have passed it off to someone before then. I don’t suppose you happen to remember where else you went do you?”

“No.”

Dean drops it’s head, “we have to be ready Sam. I know you want out but something is coming. I don’t know what it is and I don’t know how to stop it, but you have to prepare yourself.”

Sam swallows. That was all very well to say but he couldn’t help wondering exactly how he was supposed to do that.


	14. Chapter 14

When Dean first notices that Sam’s absence, it assumes that he was probably just staying late at the university studying. The giant nerd does that sometimes, it isn’t unusual, but for whatever reason tonight it was giving Dean a bad feeling. Afterall, the last time the kid had disappeared, he had been possessed by a demon and it had taken almost a week for Dean to find him. So, sooner than he would have normally, and feeling a bit foolish, Dean calls his brother’s cell, just to check. No answer. No answer the next three times either. Dean now understands all to well why Sam was pissed when it took off to Milwaukee. Sure, it doesn’t actually think Sam would go evil, like he had insultingly seemed to believe about Dean, but the not knowing what’s going on still sucks. 

The first move, it decides, should be to check some of the spots where Sam is most likely to be: the library, his favourite café, places like that. As it’s making the short drive to the university, not wanting to waste any time by walking, it scans through the radio in an attempt to distract itself and a breaking news story captures its’ attention. 

“We’re getting reports on multiple students found dead at Stanford University. The cause of the deaths has not yet been determined, but foul play is suspected. Details, including the names of the victims, have not yet been released. . . .”

Dean presses down on the gas pedal and practically leaps out of the Impala as he pulls into lot. Stanford has a big campus, but it has pretty good hearing and the lights and sirens from the multiple police vehicles pulled up in front of the main library aren’t exactly subtle. 

Some of those police have been given the job of herding away the public, so it can’t get too close, but it still manages to push its way through the crowd of gawking students to get close enough hear one of the cop’s making a report to his superior. 

“Two of the victims apparently worked part time in the stacks and were there working. The third a student presumably there to study . . .” Dean draws in a breath, “she was found slumped over a desk . . .” and lets it out. None of them are Sam. 

It hangs around for a few minutes, hoping to get lucky again and pick up on some more info, and its as they’re carrying out the bodies on stretchers that it gets it’s wish. The police have covered their faces in an attempt to preserve the privacy of the victims, but a tattoo or the arm of the female victim remains exposed. Dean only gets a quick look at the wild horse running up the girl’s forearm but it knows that it’s seen it before. 

Sam has spent most of the year tutoring a freshman named Angela in English and though they’d never really met, Dean has seen her several times, and even with that brief exposure, Dean could tell that she was majorly crushing on its brother. Now she’s dead, Sam is missing, and the whole thing is too much of a coincidence for Dean not to guess that Sam had probably been at the library with her when the whole thing went down. Which must mean, if he’s not here now, that something took him, and Dean has a pretty good idea what. In the spring air, underneath all of the pollen, it picks up the pungent smell of sulfur. 

***

Dean tries the who cell phone tracking thing that Sam used on it, but without any luck. It spends the next few minutes pacing back and forth in the apartment trying to think of a way to find Sam before those damn demons do whatever it is they’ve been planning to him. Maybe he could find a witch to do a tracking spell? Or summon a demon and get it to talk somehow? But he knows that any of those things will take too long. 

When the answer comes to it, the idea is so ridiculously simple that it wonders why it’s never tried this before. Sam will be pissed off when he finds out but that’s hardly what’s important right now. Besides Sam’s the one who made this loophole possible so it will be his own fault in a way. It grabs it’s cell phone and selects Bobby’s name from the contacts. 

“Hello?” the old man answers. 

“Hey Bobby, its Dean.”

“Dean boy, what is it now? Seems you idjits only bother to call when you’re up the damn creek.”

“Sorry Bobby, we can grab a beer some other time, but right now Sam is in trouble.”

“What do you need from me?” Bobby asks. 

“Nothing major, I just need you to say something for me. Repeat it back exactly as I say it okay?”

“Why?” Bobby asks. 

“I don’t have time to explain right now. Just . . .please.” Dean holds its breath waiting for Bobby’s go ahead. It’s far too used to not being trusted, but at least Bobby doesn’t know the secret, which might give it a chance.   
“Okay, fine. What is it you need me to say?”

“You have permission to shift forms” Dean recites. 

There’s a long pause during which Dean knows that Bobby must be fighting back a million questions, but finally he says the words. “You have permission to shift forms” Bobby growls, clearly unhappy with being in the dark.   
“Thank you, Bobby” Dean hangs up before Bobby can ask it something that it can’t bring itself to answer. 

Dean heads into the bathroom and slips out of it’s clothes. Whenever possible, it prefers to do this in the shower; it makes the cleanup a lot easier. It turns on the water, steps in, and pictures in it’s mind who it wants to be. It feels it’s skin start to loosen and it rubs It’s hands over it’s body like a human would with a bar of soap. It tries not to watch as the detached skin turns to sludge and eventually dissolves and makes its way down the drain. Sam hadn’t been wrong when he said it was gross. The first step done, it feels it’s bones shift and writhe as they elongate to their new shapes. Dean knows that it’s going to be starving after this, always is when shifting from a smaller form to a larger one, like his body needs to make up all that extra biomass somehow. 

Next, it regrows new skin over it’s muscles. Unfortunately, the new skin won’t be as strong as it’s old covering, it seems to take a few days to fully anchor itself. That’s why shifters who’ve changed recently sometimes have their skin pull off in a fight. And it’s very likely that it’s going to have to fight. Finally, it puts on the finishing touches, willing the girly hair to sprout from it’s head, adding dimples and moles, and blinking it’s eyes into the correct colour. When it steps out of the shower, and rubs out a clear patch of mirror, it sees it’s brother starring back at it. Yep, Sam is going to be pissed. 

Dean lets itself into Sam’s room and gets dressed in some of Sam’s clothes. Then, it sits on the bed and tries to clear it’s mind. It focuses and finds that part of it’s brain that doesn’t really belong to itself, the part that’s only active when it’s copying a living person. Right now, that part is connected to Sam. It tries to be as discrete as it can, not looking at Sam’s memories, only focusing on the now, but it’s hard to navigate thoughts that belong to someone else. Dean catches glimpses of kid Sam with his friends, student Sam in classes, and a few of hunter Sam polishing weapons. It tries not to dwell on the sadness that tinges so many of the memories. 

Finally, it gets to something from the present: an image of a bell with a tree engraved on it. There should have been more to go on normally, but Dean was in Sam’s thoughts and apparently Sam didn’t know where he was either. Rubbing it’s temples, it sits down at Sam’s desk and fires up his laptop. Dean isn’t as practiced as Sam is at research and just now it’s kicking itself for it. It takes a few hours of internet searching before he it finds a picture of the bell, and after that it finds the town that the bell is connected to. The place is called Cold Oak and it’s famous for supposedly being so haunted that all of the residents just packed up and left, but somehow Dean doubts that it’s ghosts that are behind their current problem. If what it’s thinking is right, something far worse has taken up residence in the abandoned town. 

***

Dean considers calling Bobby again for backup before it heads after Sam, but if it’s going to find it’s brother, it needs to stay connected to it’s brother’s mind and in his brother’s body. That wouldn’t exactly be an easy one to explain to Bobby and if Bobby decides to shoot it for being a shapeshifter then neither of them will be able to find Sam, so it sets out alone. It’s a full day’s drive from California to South Dakota and Dean resents every minute of it but at least now it’s on the move. It also helps that it’s able to keep tabs on Sam to a certain extent. Right now, it can tell that Sam is scared but also that he’s alive and not in any pain. 

Suddenly, that changes and Dean is hit with a wave of distress welling up from the Sam corner of it’s mind. It pulls the Impala over and wades into it. Sam isn’t in physical pain it realizes but something that’s just happened has him badly upset. It dives even deeper into it’s brother’s mind and what it sees there makes it’s own revulsion rises up in the wake of Sam’s. 

Dean sees Sam as a baby being fed demon blood by the yellow-eyed demon. The contrast between the innocent infant and the inherent evil being forced upon him makes Dean’s skin crawl and it’s more glad than ever that it ganked the son of a bitch. How Sam is seeing this himself, Dean doesn’t know, but whatever’s going on, it can’t be good. Dean pulls back onto the road and steps on the gas.


	15. Chapter 15

Dean is close to reaching the place where the internet tells it that it’ll find the bell and it’s brother, when the car suddenly runs out of road. It pulls the Impala carefully off to the side and circles round to the trunk. Once it’s done rifling through their weapons stock, it’s got it’s handgun, a rock-salt sawed-off, and a couple of knives. None of which will do much good against a demon, if they’re still around, but Sam can’t afford for it to sit around and wait for a better option. 

Cold Oak looks like a film set, it decides as it reaches the first buildings on the outskirts of town. Except it’s a set that can’t decide whether it belongs to a classic western or some kind of dystopian horror flick. With the sun having been down for several hours, Dean supposes the old place is leaning towards the latter. 

The eerie silence is suddenly broken by someone yelling in pain and Dean picks up it’s pace, running towards the centre of the town. As it goes, it can hear familiar soundtrack of an ongoing fight: intermittent crashes and grunts of pain from two different men, one of whom it’s pretty sure is Sam. When things go silent again, it starts running even faster until it arrives on the scene and skids to a halt. It’s obvious that a fight has taken place here, the mud is all churned up, and the wooden fence is broken into pieces like someone was thrown through it. What isn’t there is any sign of Sam or the other guy. Dean looks around frantically but there’s no one in sight. At least that probably means that Sammy was able to walk away from whatever attacked him, it tells itself. However, it also means that that someone else is still out here wandering around too. 

Dean picks a side street at random and moves down it, hoping that it’s superior-to-human hearing and night vision will give it some kind of advantage. It feels a surge of hope when it sees someone limping along an old-dirt crossroad a hundred yards or so in front of him, heading out of town. Even Dean can’t make much at that distance in the dark but the figure is tall enough that it can only be one person. Dean is about to call out when a sudden searing pain in it’s back turns the name on it’s lips into a scream instead. 

***

Sam has almost got away from this awful place when he hears a sudden scream ring out into the night. He freezes in his tracks looking around him. The only other person left alive in this place is Jake and after their fight Sam left him unconscious, just a few minutes ago. Maybe some of the demons have come back? Sam shudders when he thinks of them. The one’s that brought him here were led by Meg and fairly minor, but during his short stay in Cold Oak, Sam had finally been introduced to the creature that all of them, including yellow-eyes, had been answering to. She might still be trapped in Hell but she was so powerful that under the right conditions she had still been able to reach out and show him visions. Sam had watched in horror as his infant-self had been infected by evil and his mother had been murdered. Now, the demon that had orchestrated all of that, Lilith as she had introduced herself, wanted out, and wanted his help to do it. 

Which brings him to the scream. It could easily be a trap. Something designed to lure him back in when he was so close to getting out of here. Sam, however, is still a hunter, and hunters are the idiots who run towards the danger when someone is in trouble. He turns back into the town and sees two figures, one standing and one lying face down. A few paces closer and he sees that the standing figure is Jake, who has apparently regained consciousness much faster than Sam thought he would. The other person is still lying with their face the other way; maybe he’s another special kid who had managed to remain hidden until now. Whoever he is, he needs Sam’s help. 

Sam charges at Jake and manages to catch him off guard and tackle him to the ground. He has a brief second to take in Jake’s expression of shock before he slams his fist into his face as hard as he can. Sam doesn’t let up, he keeps the hits coming, determined that this time his opponent is going to stay down. His efforts prove unsuccessful however as Jake bucks up from underneath him with his enhanced strength and manages to throw Sam off. The two men are on their feet now, circling each other like a bull and a matador. Sam just wishes he knew which one of them is the bull. 

“You kept that power pretty close to your chest, didn’t you?” Jake asks and Sam wrinkles his forehead in confusion. “Doesn’t matter. I’ll kill you as many times as it takes.”

Jake doesn’t get the chance to try and make good on his bizarre threat, however, because just then two shots ring out and two corresponding holes appear in Jake’s chest. As he falls to the ground, Sam peers past him into the darkness, trying to see who fired the shot, and finds himself staring at himself. 

The other Sam is lying in the mud, propped up on one elbow, gun held in the opposite hand. Although his grip is steady, Sam can see that his face is ashen and his breathing is heavy. 

“Who are you?” Sam demands. 

“I’m Dean, dumbass” other Sam replies. “Are there any more of them?”

“Dean?” Sam echoes incredulously. He takes a step closer to his other self, and still keeping his guard up, crouches down. He wonders if this could be another special kid with the ability to shapeshift, but that’s definitely Dean’s gun that the other Sam is holding. Somehow, it must be him. 

“Are there anymore of them?” Dean demands again. 

“No” Sam answers. Dean drops the gun with a groan and shifts onto his side. “Why do you look like that?”

“It was the only was I could think of to find you.” Sam must look like he’s about to ask something else because Dean cuts him off. “Look, I know you’ve got questions, I do too, but they’re going to have to wait” Dean tells him. 

“You’re right, we need to get out of here” Sam agrees and gets to his feet. “You coming?” he asks, seeing that Dean hasn’t moved.

“I can’t move” Dean says, grimacing. 

“What? What happened?”

“Your buddy over there got me in the back.”

Sam circles around behind it and has to bite back his revulsion when he sees a knife sticking out of it’s back just below where the rib cage ends. It looks so wrong. Anyone with that kind of injury shouldn’t be able to move and breath and between that and the fact that it’s technically his own back that the blade is sunk into, Sam feels sick looking at it. 

“Shit. Are you okay?”

“No, I’m not okay” Dean growls at him. “On the positive side, it’s not silver or I’d be dead already. On the negative” Dean looks at Sam, trying to put on a brave face, “Sammy, I can’t feel my legs.” 

Sam freezes for a second on hearing that; he doesn’t need a medical degree to know that that’s a bad sign. “Okay, I’m going to get you out of here” he says, trying to be reassuring. He manages to get one arm under Dean’s shoulders and the other under it’s knees. He carries Dean bridal style as it directs him towards where it left the Impala. Sam has to stop a couple times on the way there and he spares a thought to wish that Dean was in a lighter body. 

Dean passes out during the process of getting him in the car. Sam lies him face down across the back seat and tries to decide what to do next. Anyone else he would take immediately to the hospital but even Sam doesn’t know all the ways that Dean’s physiology might be different from human. If the doctors find something abnormal, he could end up tipping off the world to the existence of the supernatural, or getting Dean locked up in a lab somewhere, or both. Eventually, he makes his decision; he’ll go to the place that Winchesters always head for when they’ve got nowhere else to go: Bobby’s.


	16. Chapter 16

Sam pulls into the salvage yard in the early hours of the morning when the sun is still well below the horizon. The Impala rattles and rages on the gravel driveway, more than enough to wake an old, ornery hunter from sleep, so by the time Sam manages to wrestle a still unconscious Dean out of the car and carry him up to the front stoop, Bobby is there waiting for him with a shotgun aimed at his face. 

“Sam?” Bobby questions as they come into view under the porch light. 

“Yeah, it’s me” Sam replies, almost breathless with anxiety and exertion.

“And if you’re you, then what is that?” Bobby gestures at Dean with his shotgun. “I don’t remember you having an identical twin.”

“It’s a shapeshifter” Sam tells him. 

“And if you’re the real Sam then why the hell would you be brining me an injured shapeshifter?” Bobby asks. 

“Bobby just test us and let us in. I’ll explain when I can.”

Bobby grumbles as he splashes them both with holy water to no effect before moving on to silver. He tests the double’s skin first and his grumbles become even more intense as he observes the shallow burn mark that’s left behind. When he tests the real Sam however, he seems surprised to see no effect. Bobby looks at Sam sharply, “well, I guess you’d better come in then.”

It says something about Bobby’s fondness for the Winchesters that he allows Sam to bring a proven monster into his home. Even he has his limits however and he keeps his rifle trained on it as Sam lays it down prone on the sofa. 

“Damn” swears Bobby upon seeing the knife for the first time. “You do that?”

“No” says Sam as he starts to push away clothing to get a better look at the wound. There’s not as much blood as he thought there would be and he’s not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. “Go get the first aid kit” he orders Bobby without looking at him. Bobby obeys and Sam packs down as many bandages as he can around the knife, using one hand to put pressure on them. Then, he takes a deep breath, and pulls out the knife as fast as he can. Dean groans but doesn’t wake. 

“Hopefully” says Sam, as much to himself as to Bobby, “now that that’s out it’ll be able to heal itself.”

“That mean I’m going to get an explanation as what the hell you’re doing with it?” Bobby asks. 

Just like he did with pulling out the knife, Sam decides to go at this fast and directly. “The shapeshifter is Dean.”

“What?” asks Bobby, understandably confused. 

“Dean’s a shapeshifter, always has been. Dad found Dean when it was just a kid, thought it’d be useful, and decided to keep it around. He put some kind of obedience spell on it and ordered it to act like his son. I only found out myself last year after he died.”

Sam was expecting a certain amount of incredulous disbelief from Bobby but he doesn’t get it. “Dean called me earlier” Bobby says thoughtfully, “wanted me to give him permission to shift forms. I had no idea what he was talking about, but I guess it makes some sense. Are you really sure Sam, that this is our Dean and not someone trying to fool you?”

“Yes. This is my brother” Sam replies, mildly surprised by his own certainty. 

“Well then we best get to work patching it up” says Bobby reaching for the suture kit. 

***

By the time they’re done repairing Dean’s/Sam’s back as best they can, Bobby has heard the long version of the story and the knife wound has been reduced to a line of neat sutures. It isn’t the flesh that Sam’s worried about though, it’s the nerves underneath. Sam is pretty sure from what Dean said before it passed out that the blade at least clipped the spine and he doesn’t know enough about shapeshifter physiology to say if Dean is going to be able to regenerate that or not. He poses the question to Bobby. 

“I don’t know either Sam. I’ve only run across a couple of them in my years and I never exactly stopped to have a conversation, if you know what I mean.”

Sam nods. Bobby gets pulled away by some work he has to do for another case and Sam spends the next few hours watching over Dean and flipping through some of Bobby’s books for information shapeshifters. Most of what he finds, however, is information on how to kill them, not keep them alive. 

Sometime in the afternoon, Dean finally stirs. It lets out a faint groan that has Sam slamming down the book and rushing over. “Hey! Hey, don’t try to move.”

“Sammy?” Dean mumbles with Sam’s own voice. 

“Yeah, I’m here.”

“Don’t freak out Sammy. It’s gonna be fine.”

“I’m not freaking out” says Sam, going for calm and reassuring. 

Dean laughs feebly. “Yes, you are. I’m in your head remember?”

Sam feels a jolt of discomfort. He hadn’t really given much thought to the mental connection that shapeshifters had when they copied living humans, but now that it was brought up, it was hard not to be at least a little freaked out by it. 

“Sorry about that” Dean says, probably sensing Sam’s thoughts again. “It was the only way I could think of to find you.”

“It’s okay” Sam says. “You got stabbed because he thought you were me. If it really was me, I might have been dead right now. I can’t exactly get mad at you after that. How did Bobby manage to give you permission anyway?” Sam asks, still trying to piece together exactly what happened. 

“Yeah. You messed up the last time you gave the order, probably because you were so mad at me. Every other time, you said not to shift without your permission, that last time you just said not to shift without permission.”

Sam’s mind races back to the day after the Milwaukee Bank incident, trying to remember his exact words, but failing. “I’ll bet you realized it right away too and were waiting for an opportunity to use it.”

“I realized the possibility right away, but there aren’t exactly a lot of people I could have asked. Even Bobby is going to want answers eventually” Dean says, resigned. 

“He already has them” Sam tells him, realizing that Dean must be more out of it than he thought. “We’re at his place right now.”

“Oh” says Dean and feebly attempts to crane it’s neck up off the pillows to get a look around. “Is he going to . . .” he trails off. 

Sam recognizes his own face well enough to see the fear in it and realizes what Dean is trying to ask. 

“He’s surprised but he’s not going to hurt you. Even if he wanted to, I wouldn’t let him.” 

“Oh, okay” Dean says, closing it’s eyes. 

Sam shakes him lightly by the shoulder, “hey, stay with me.” Dean blinks at him groggily but otherwise stays still. “I need to know Dean, are you going to be able to heal from this?” Dean closes it’s eyes again, not answering and Sam isn’t sure if it’s because it’s avoiding the question or it simply doesn’t have enough energy to respond. 

***

When Dean wakes up for the second time it’s considerably more lucid. Sam checks the wound on it’s back then heaves it up into something closer to a sitting position. Bobby makes them soup for lunch and they sit in the living room to eat it so they can be closer to Dean.

“How’s the back?” Bobby asks gruffly. 

“Well, it doesn’t really hurt anymore” Dean answers. 

“And below that?” Sam asks hopefully. 

“Still nothing.” 

Sam makes a distressed sound and stares into the distance, thinking. 

“Enough about me” says Dean. “Are you ever going to tell us what happened to you?”

“I thought you could read my mind.”

“I can but I’m trying to be polite and stay out of it as much as I can. If you don’t hurry up and tell us, I might change my mind.”

“I was in the library” Sam starts out “and all of a sudden these demons just came out of nowhere and I guess they transported me somehow, because I woke up in that godforsaken ghost town. There were a bunch of other people there too, Andy, Ava-the one who warned me about Gordon, and a few others. All kids that yellow eyes . . .”

“I know” says Dean “I saw that part.” Sam relaxes slightly, relieved that he doesn’t have to explain the whole demon blood thing. Bobby eyes them suspiciously but stays silent. 

“After a while” Sam goes on, “the demons came back. They told us that only one of us could get out of there and that the rest had to die. Everyone just started killing each other. They’re all dead.”

“Well that explains why that military douche wanted to stab you in the spine” Dean says. 

“And what now?” asks Bobby. “If you’re the last survivor, do you really think that they’re just going to let you go?” 

“I don’t know” answers Sam. 

Dean huffs and attempts to blow it’s overly long Sam hair of it’s face. “Well, if there’s a chance they might come for you again, I can’t stay lying around on the couch.”

“Which means what exactly?” Bobby asks. 

“I’m going to try shifting. Usually if I’ve got a skin or muscle injury, I can just shift and it goes away. I’m not sure if the same thing will work for nerves but I’ve got to try.”

“So, why haven’t you tried it yet?”

“I haven’t exactly tried it paralyzed before” Dean snarks. “I’m not sure what’s going to happen.” It visibly gathers itself, “but I guess whatever happens can’t be worse than looking like you for the rest of my life. Sam, help me to the bathroom, will you?” it says holding out an arm. 

“Just do it here, Dean. I don’t think you should be moving around too much.”

“And I don’t think Bobby is going to want bits of shapeshifter skin all over his couch.”

“Just do it” Bobby interjects, “that couch has probably had worse things on it.”

“I don’t want to know” Dean says, making a face. Then, it looks around the room and if Sam wasn’t already familiar with his brother’s total lack of shame, he’d almost think it looks embarrassed. “Here goes nothing” it says and closes it’s eyes. 

At first Sam doesn’t think that anything is happening but then Dean starts to scratch at it’s skin like it has an itch and the dermis sloughs off under it’s fingers. Soon, Dean is pulling off larger chunks and the skin starts to come apart like a suit made of tissue paper left out in the rain. It’s sort of unnerving for Sam to see his own face melt away and he takes a moment to set the feeling aside in the corner of his mind where he keeps all of the other disturbing shit from his life. 

Soon he notices Dean struggling to lean forward so that it can work off the skin on it’s legs. “Need help?” he asks. 

“Yeah, sorry” it says. Sam stops over and starts rubbing at it’s legs, trying to ignore grossness of it as flesh turns to mush under his hands. 

In a few moments, skin, hair, and nails (and clothes) are all gone and what’s left is glistening exposed muscle. The bones underneath start to crack and pop as they shorten and reform but soon those sounds are drowned out as Dean lets out a lipless scream. 

“What’s wrong?” Sam yells but Dean seems too overcome by pain to answer him. 

“I think it’s the spine” Bobby answers instead from where he’s been watching carefully across the room. “It’s trying to restructure itself and it’s pulling on the injured nerves.”

Sam looks back to where Dean is lying on the couch panting. It’s body is halfway through it’s transformation and looks misshapen with limbs of different lengths. “Dean, can you hear me?” Sam asks. “I know it hurts but you have to keep going” he says trying to be encouraging. 

Dean makes a raspy sound that might be speech and Sam leans in closer to try and hear. “Can’t, hurts” he thinks he can make out. 

“I’m sorry Dean, but you can’t stay like that” Sam tells it but Dean still can’t seem to force itself to push forward. Sam knows what he has to do even if he hates himself a little for it. Praying that this won’t do his brother any permanent damage, Sam starts to speak. “Dean, I order you to shift now.”

Dean screams again as it’s limbs begin to contort but at least it’s over quickly and now the body in front of them looks at least a little more human. With the second step apparently over, skin begins to develop over muscle and Dean’s body begins to fill out – fill out more than they were expecting. Bobby draws in a breath with surprise and Sam swallows awkwardly as it becomes more than obvious what’s happening. Sam had assumed that Dean would shapeshift back into his usual form but apparently that isn’t the case because the figure now lying on the sofa in front of him is decidedly female.


	17. Chapter 17

When everything appears to have finished, Sam grabs an old blanket off the back of a chair and throws it over his brother (sister). “Dean?” he asks cautiously. No response. He grabs it’s shoulder and gently shakes it. “Dean, wake up.”

Dean groans and opens it’s eyes, which are now a deep brown colour and almost the same shade as it’s skin. “Sammy?” it asks, “what happened?”

“You got stuck in the middle somehow. I had to order you to keep going. Are you okay now?”

Dean slowly pushes itself up into more of a sitting position and as it does it sees itself for the first time. “Shit” Dean says running it’s hands up and down it’s arms. “I didn’t mean to do this.” It’s hands move up to it’s chest and cup it’s breasts. “I definitely didn’t mean to do that.”

“So, umm, who are you right now anyways?” Sam asks. 

“No one, this another original, like “Dean”. I wasn’t really fully conscious for that last part, so I guess my system just kind of defaulted back to this?” Dean suggests. 

“And can you feel anything now, boy?” Bobby asks. 

“I feel sort of tingly” Dean answers. 

“Let’s hope that’s your nerves growing back” says Sam. 

***

It’s most recent transformation seems to have sapped Dean’s energy and Sam is feeling pretty exhausted himself. Since Dean’s legs still aren’t back to normal, Sam has to carry it, wrapped up in a blanket, to their old bedroom. He lies Dean down on the bed nearest the door and then climbs under the covers of the one beside it. He’d intended to go asleep right away, but there are too many thoughts running laps in his brain and he can tell from it’s breathing that Dean is awake too. 

“So why that body?” Sam asks. 

“What do you mean?” Dean says, voice partially obscured by it’s pillow. 

“You said that you defaulted to it because you weren’t consciously thinking of what form you wanted, but why would you default to that and not the one you use most often?”

Dean is silent for a long moment before answering. “This one was my first.”

“Your first?”

“It’s like I told you before, I didn’t actually shapeshift for the first time until I was about twelve. This is the body I had before that, or the adult version of it at least.”

Sam takes a second to process. “So, you’re saying that this your real body?”

“No Sam, It’s not any more or less real than any other body. It’s just like when you get a new computer and it has all these settings you can play around with, but it starts out on default settings. This is my default setting.”

“So, it’s like you’re rebooting yourself to try to heal?”

“I guess. And before you ask, no, I don’t identify as female, or black, or anything else. I’m just me.” 

“I know who you are Dean” Sam tries to reassure it. A few moments later they’ve both drifted off to sleep. 

***

Sam’s sleep, however, is far from peaceful. Almost as soon as his mind disengages from consciousness, an unwelcome visitor invades his dreams. He hair is long and golden, with a slight curl that reminds him uncomfortably of Jess. 

“Who are you?” Sam demands. 

“My name is Lilith” she answers with a placating smile. “You’ve met some of my co-workers before, but since your pet monster took out my main emissary last year, I thought that it was time we talked in person.”

“You’re a demon” Sam says, and it isn’t a question. “The demon that sent Azazel.” 

“I’m not just a demon, Sam, I’m the first child of the underworld, the queen of Hell.” The way she smiles at him when she says this indicates that this is something he should find reassuring rather than terrifying, but Sam isn’t buying it.

“What do you want?” he spits at her. 

“No more than what everyone wants” she tells him. “I want to be free. You see Sam, I’m not actually on Earth right now, I’m trapped. It’s taking an enormous amount of power for me to even talk to you like this.”

“Why do it then?”

“Because I’m a princess, locked in a tower, and you are the handsome prince who will save me.”

“And why in hell would I do that?” Sam demands. 

Lilith’s smile widens, like she’s been waiting for him to ask exactly that. “I could try and tempt you” she tells him. “I could say that you’ll have unlimited power and rule by my side, but I know you Sam, and I know that won’t be enough to persuade you, so I’ll give you an extra cherry on top. If you open the gates of Hell and let me through, I’ll bring you your father.”

“My father?” Sam echoes. 

“That’s right. You know he always thought that when he died he’d by reunited with Mary in Heaven, but instead he’s down here with me. Poor John, he played the hero, but it turns out that when it comes to child abuse, the ends don’t justify the means after all.”

Sam swallows heavily. “If Hell is where he ended up then maybe Hell is where he should stay.”

Lilith brings her hand to her mouth in mock surprise. “Oh, that’s cold. You’d be willing to condemn your own father to an infinity of torture, under my special supervision, rather than do me one little favour?”

Sam says nothing but his mind is spinning. Yes, maybe his dad was a son of a bitch but he was also still his dad and now that Sam knows that he’s stuck in Hell, he isn’t going to be able to forget it. 

“I’ll give you some time to think about it” Lilith smiles kindly at him, “but don’t take too long Sam. When you’ve made your decision, go here” she flashes a set of coordinates directly into his brain “and one of my subordinates will meet you. He’ll give you the colt, you’ll need it to complete your mission, and the rest of your instructions.” She takes a step closer and reaches out to squeeze his shoulder in an almost maternal kind of way. “It was nice to meet you Sam.” Lilith blinks out of existence and Sam’s eyes snap open.

***

The old floors of Bobby’s house creak as Sam tries to exit the room without waking Dean. He almost thinks he’s got away free but when he goes to open the door it’s hinges let out a shriek that would probably wake the dead. He freezes in place as he hears blankets rustling behind him, followed by a barely awake female voice. 

“Sam?” Dean asks. “Where are you going?”

Sam briefly considers reassuring it that he’s only headed to the bathroom but decides against it. Afterall, if he snuck out without talking to anyone then he wouldn’t be able to prevent Dean from following him using a Shapeshifter telepathic link, the same way it did before. 

“Dean” he says turning around to face his brother. “I need to go somewhere, but before I do, I need to give you some new orders. Do not shift forms without my permission.” Sam plows on, trying to ignore the confusion and heavy disappointment on Dean’s current face. “You’re going to stay here until morning and then you can get up, but in the meantime, don’t do anything to try to wake Bobby.”

“Sam, what’s going on?” Dean asks, but Sam ignores it. 

“I’m going to need to take the Impala. Tell me where the keys are.”

“In my jacket pocket, by the front door I think.” 

“Good” says Sam. “I don’t want you to worry, Dean. If everything goes according to plan, I’ll be back soon. He exits the room before Dean can protest and closes the door softly behind him. 

A few minutes later, Sam is on the road headed towards the coordinates that Lilith gave him.


	18. Chapter 18

Sam meets the demon next to an old iron railway that’s overgrown with weeds. It doesn’t bother to introduce itself and Sam doesn’t ask. The nameless minion of Hell hands over the colt and backs away quickly like it thinks that will save it if Sam decides to shoot it. Sam checks and finds the last bullet sitting exactly where it’s been since Dean shot John Winchester and Yellow Eyes. 

“So, what am I doing with this?” Sam asks the demon. 

“The gun is a key” it tells him. “You’ll need it to open the door.”

“The door to Hell” Sam clarifies. 

It nods meekly. “You’ll find it in the graveyard, fifteen miles due west. She says that you’ll know what to do.”

***

The sun is almost up by the time Sam finishes his errand and makes it to the cemetery. It feels like the wrong time of day for what he’s about to do, like gates to Hell should only be opened in the pitch-dark witching hour, but Sam knows well that reality rarely lives up to the fantasy of the supernatural. Sam thinks guiltily to himself about how Dean will be getting up soon, released from Sam’s command, and probably colossally pissed off. Thinking about it almost makes Sam change his mind for a moment but he pushes those thoughts behind him. He can only hope that Dean and Bobby will both understand. He heaves the duffle he’s carrying higher up on his shoulder and keeps walking. 

Sam quickly identifies the mausoleum in the middle of the plot as the gate; the demonic markings are pretty hard to miss. He sets his burden down on the grass beside him and leans forward to examine it more closely. In the centre of it all is the keyhole and Sam slides the barrel of the colt gently into it. The device spins and clicks into place and the door swings open. Before it can get more than a couple inches however, Sam sticks his foot out and stops it. He reaches down and pulls the colt free from the door and aims it into Hell. Sam stands with only his foot holding back the gate to Hell and stares into the abyss. He can barely comprehend what he’s looking at and the fire is so bright he can almost feel it burning his retinas. It isn’t long before a voice calls to him from beyond the door. 

“Sam?” it asks in a smooth girlish voice. “What are you doing? You came here to set us free.”

“No” Sam says firmly, “just you. You come through and bring my dad with you. You don’t get to bring your army.”

Sam’s speech is followed by a long pause where even the flickering flames seem to stop dancing to consider his proposal. “Very well” the voice finally agrees. “That is acceptable.”

As Sam watches a dark figure appear out of the brightness, walking slowly towards him. At first, it’s only a silhouette but as it gets closer Sam can make out long spindly limbs, oil black skin, and six horns jutting from it’s head it the shape of a crown. As it approaches, it gets bigger and bigger until Sam starts to wonder if it (she) will even fit through the gate. Then, just as she reaches the threshold, the demon dissolves into a plume of smoke.   
Something else flickers through the gateway at the same moment and Sam slams the door shut before anything else can escape. 

By the time he’s turned around again, Lilith has already found the contents of the duffle and is ripping it open from the inside. The relatively fresh corpse of an elderly woman rises to it’s feet, eyes milky white and starring. “You brought me a gift, Sam” she says. “I usually prefer them younger but I suppose it’s the thought that counts.”

“There wasn’t exactly a big selection at the local funeral parlour” says Sam. “That was the best I could do.”

She takes a step toward him and smiles. “So tender-hearted. No matter, there will be plenty of time for me to find a living host soon enough. And after that, I’ll raise our army. Did you really think that denying them today would make any difference? I’ve been slipping lesser demons in through the cracks to earth for years. How do you think your friend Meg came back? It will only be easier now that I’m here myself.”

Sam has heard enough of her villain monologue. He doesn’t even dignify it with a response, just swings the colt around and aims it at her head. Before he can pull the trigger, however, she flings him to the side without so much as a twitch of her finger. Sam’s back collides with a tombstone and the colt slips from his grasp. Lilith walks slowly towards him looking like an undead disappointed grandmother. 

“Really Sam?” Lilith clucks at him, “after everything I’ve done for you? You could have claimed any reward you wanted, anything in the world.” She leans down over him and Sam tries not to gag at the smell. “I even brought dear old dad back with me just like I promised. He’s right over there.” She looks to the side and starts to point back towards the gate but then stops with her arm partly raised and confusion in her milky eyes. “Where did he . . .” she starts to ask. 

Suddenly, a ghost flickers into existence on the other side of her and flings it’s arms around Lilith’s borrowed body. Sam doesn’t waste the moment; he dives to the side, grabs the colt, and swings it around to aim at the demon. In the barest second before he pulls the trigger, Sam is terrified that she’ll teleport out of the way like yellow eyes did when they first went after him, and that he’ll end up wasting the final bullet. Lilith, however, is still entangled, both body and demonic essence in the grip of John Winchester’s ghost. The bullet catches her right in the chest and hot sparks fly up from the cold corpse which finally collapses to the ground. 

Sam stares at the now empty cadaver for a long moment, hardly daring to believe that it’s actually over. Eventually, he manages to convince himself that it isn’t going to start moving again the second he looks away and shifts his gaze over to his father. 

John Winchester stands as firmly as a being with no actual mass can and his translucency does little to negate his customary steadiness. He isn’t quite as stern as he usually appears, however, and Sam might even describe his expression as fond. “Sam, you did it” John speaks. “I am so proud of you, son.”

Sam knows that his next words might very well kill that all too rare affection from his father and he steels himself in preparation. “I didn’t rescue you for you” he tells his dad. “I did it for Dean.”


	19. Chapter 19

“Dean?” his father asks in confusion. “Sam, you were supposed to find out after I died” he says cautiously. “Dean isn’t really your brother.”

“Dean may not be your son” Sam tells him, “but it is still my brother.”

“I still don’t understand what you mean” John says. “If you know the truth then what do you mean you rescued me for Dean?”

“I rescued you because you are the only one in world who knows exactly what kind of curse you put on it. You are going to tell me and then you’re going to tell me how to remove it.”

John Winchester is full on frowning now and it calls Sam back to every childhood argument he ever had. “That’s not a good idea Sam. I understand that you’re fond of it, but Dean isn’t human and the second you remove the obedience spell, it will turn on you.” 

“That’s not true” Sam argues, “Dean has saved my life multiple times when it was under no obligation to, even though my death would probably be the only thing that could free it.”

“It wouldn’t” John says with a sigh, “free it that is. The spell placed upon the creature you know as Dean is blood magic. It was done with my blood which means that it’s tied to my bloodline. If you died it would just move on to my next closest relative.”

Sam spares a brief moment to wonder who that is, his dad doesn’t have any other family as far as he knows, but that isn’t what’s important right now. “Tell me how to remove it” he demands again. 

“You can’t, Sam. That spell is the most powerful magic that I’ve ever come across.”

“Where did you even get it?” Sam pleads desperately. “You were in your first year as a hunter, how could you have pulled something like that off.”

“Missouri Mosely gave it to me” John explains. “after your mother died, I was desperate for a way to keep you safe. I knew that if I was going to have any chance of avenging her then I couldn’t be with you all the time. You needed a protector. I begged Missouri to help. She didn’t want to give me the spell, said the price was too high, but she gave in eventually.”

“What price?” Sam asks. 

“Like I said, it’s blood magic. The spell ensures the servitude of whichever supernatural creature it’s cast upon until that creature’s death or until the caster’s family line becomes completely extinct. In exchange, the life of the caster is forfeit to that creature.” Sam narrows his eyes, trying to make sense of what his dad is saying. “That means” John elaborates, “that Dean was always destined to kill me. The spell doesn’t specify when or how, but it was always going to happen.”

“You knew that and you did it anyway” Sam says. 

“I had to keep you safe. Don’t worry though, the dying part doesn’t get passed down, only the obedience.” 

Sam takes a step back. He’s not sure whether he wants to hug his dad or punch him in the face, but it doesn’t matter, he can’t do either to a ghost. “So, there’s really nothing I can do?”

“I’m sorry, Sam” John says, looking almost sincere. He flickers briefly. “You know I can’t stay long right? What’s dead should stay dead.”

“I know. Goodbye Dad.” John smiles wryly and disappears. Sam isn’t sure where he’s gone and he’s not really sure that he wants to know. He walks back to the car and drives home. 

***

When Sam arrives back in Sioux Falls, he finds Dean and Bobby hunched over a map getting ready to attempt a locater spell. Sam is pleased to see that although Dean seems to be moving carefully, it’s legs are supporting it just fine. 

As he walks through the doorway, Sam sees the moment when Dean opens it’s mouth, to either lecture or yell at him probably, and intercepts it by stepping forward and hugging it as firmly as he can.

“I’m so sorry” he whispers as he pulls Dean’s smaller than usual body against himself. 

“Sam?” Dean says questioningly with it’s head still resting against Sam’s chest.

Sam lets it go and takes a step backwards. “I hereby release you from all standing orders placed upon you. Do whatever you want.”

“Sam, what’s going on?” Dean asks. “Where have you been?”

“The demon contacted me in my dreams last night” Sam begins, “the one they’ve all been working for, even Yellow-eyes. She was trapped in Hell and she wanted me to use the colt to free her. I did and then I used it to kill her.”

“Sam, that was a huge risk” Bobby chastises him. 

“I know, but she needed to be dealt with. She wasn’t going to stop otherwise. But that’s not all, when I freed her I had her bring Dad back out of Hell with her, as my reward. I needed to talk to him. I asked him how to remove your curse Dean, but I’m so sorry, he didn’t know how.” Dean is staring at him with something akin to shellshock so Sam continues. “But I want you to know that I’m not going to use it anymore. You’re free to go. Go be a hunter, or a rockstar, or a fireman, whatever you want.”

“Well then I guess I’d better go pack up the Impala” Dean says. Sam’s face twitches, as much as he wants Dean to be free, he couldn’t help but hope that his brother would still choose to stay with him. “Afterall” Dean continues “your law school interview is in a few days and it’s a long drive to California.”

Sam breaks into a grin, then something occurs to him. “Do you mind if we stop off in Lawrence on the way? I’ve got a few questions for Missouri.”

“I guess we could make time for that.” 

“You idjits be sure to check in every now and then” Bobby tells them. “I don’t only want to hear from you when someone’s dying.”

“Will do Bobby” Dean agrees, “and if you catch wind of any hunts out west, send them my way.”

Bobby nods.

“I’m going to go get changed” Dean says and Sam knows that it’s referring to it’s body and not just it’s oddly baggy outfit. “I don’t really have any clothes that fit right now. After that we can head out.”

End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's all folks. Thanks for reading. 
> 
> If you enjoyed this, check out some of my other stories. I am going to have a new SPN fic going up in the next few days as well. It's going to be about Dean dealing with the consequences of killing Death at the end of season 10. 
> 
> Merry Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> I am definitely not the first author to toy with the idea of Dean secretly being a shapeshifter; there are multiple other fics out there with a similar premise. Full credit to whoever came up with it first and if I knew for sure who that was, the I'd mention them by name. Hopefully I've put enough of my own spin on it to make it interesting.


End file.
